


Le Cirque de Nuit

by onceuponatime



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Circus!AU, Feelings, Luke is in college, M/M, Michael is a magician's assistant, Sexual Content, lotta feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4651326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponatime/pseuds/onceuponatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing he notices is that the main tent – the big top – isn’t red and white, but is instead black, silver and purple. That seems to be the colour scheme throughout, because each of smaller tents that are dotted around the field is a variation of those colours. Some are black with silver stars, others purple with black moons, and so many more combinations Luke can't even count. The people who work here are easy to tell apart from the visitors. They’re dressed completely in black and wearing purple or silver accessories – hats, suspenders, shoes, bowties. Their faces painted black and white – as skeletons, some kind of monsters or with symbols on their cheeks. Luke hasn’t been close enough to see what any of the symbols are yet.</p><p>Luke is dragged to the circus by his brother and ends up falling for the magician's assistant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No You Don't Have To Steal The Show, It Was Your Show All Along

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, this is circus Michael because I was at a circus and all I could think about was Muke and so this happened. I've been working on this or a while and I wasn't sure if I was gonna post it but here it is anyway. It's not going to be ridiculously long - just five chapters and an epilogue. I've got all of it planned and most of it typed up, but none of it is edited or anything so we'll see how it goes.
> 
> Chapter title comes from Hold Up A Light by Take That. (The album that song is from is 'The Circus' which is where I got all my chapter titles because I'm a massive dweeb and tried to be cute.)
> 
> So yes, circus.

Luke taps his pen against his notepad as he watches the seconds on the clock tick past, not even listening to his professor as he rambles on about imagery in Dante’s ‘Inferno’. He looks to his left and can see Calum captivated in some racing game on his phone, muttering little curse words every time some car passes out his own. Luke can’t help bouncing his thigh, his eagerness to get out of college for the weekend making him fidgety. All this week has been stress – the first week back always is, sorting out classes and timetables. But this is his last lecture of the week, and all he wants to do is get back home and sleep.  

His phone vibrates in his hand, and there’s a notification telling him he got a text from Calum. Luke glances back over at his friend, who is now looking at guitar tabs or something, before opening the message.

**_From: Cal Pal_ **

**Stop movin ur damn leg, you drivin me nuts.**

Luke sends back a simple ‘fuck off’ before looking at the clock again, seeing that only five minutes has passed since he last checked. His bus will be at the stop in fifteen minutes, and if he misses it he’ll have to hang around and wait for another hour to catch one, and he doesn’t want that.

Bart (which is what his professor insists on being called, and not, you know, _professor_ ) is pushing ninety years old. He’s extremely old fashioned and is the kind of professor that will keep talking to the very last second. He doesn’t like technology or people being late, nor does he like people disrupting his classes and making a fuss. Which is exactly what Luke will do if he starts packing all his stuff away and walks out. And Luke _really_ needs to be on Bart’s good side this year. Last year wasn’t exactly his best effort (is anyone’s first year of college? He spent it abusing his freedom and drinking a little too much) and he’s surprised he passed all his exams, but he’s pissed old Bart off more times than he’d like to remember, and leaving the first lecture early is a good way to continue his streak. So he slumps back in his seat and waits for it to hit four o’clock.

 Calum has discarded his phone, and instead he’s doodling some kind of skull thing on the notebook he has balancing on his thigh. Luke can see the girls in the row in front of him have pages of notes, colour coded and everything, and Luke looks at his blank page, marked only by small dots made by his pen as he bounced it off the paper. He’s so focused on three of the dots that kind of look like Mickey Mouse if he squints the right way, that he zones out and doesn’t notice when the lecture ends and people start walking out.

“Oi, Hemmings,” Calum says, thumping Luke’s shoulder lightly and pulling Luke from his daze. “You staying here or what?”

Luke starts shoving his stuff into his backpack, losing his only pen somewhere in the mess at the bottom, deciding it’s Monday morning’s problem to find it. “Not if you paid me,” he mumbles, zipping up his bag before standing up.

Calum chuckles, pulling up the zip of his sweatshirt as they start to leave the lecture hall. “So, me and Ash are gonna head out later, celebrate getting through the first week unscathed. You game?”

Luke fixes the grey beanie on his head, picking up his speed to try and catch the bus. “I dunno, Cal, I’m pretty tired. I was planning on sleeping and eating my weight in Doritos. How about next week?”

“Sure,” Calum says, thumping Luke’s arm again and Luke wonders for the millionth time why guys feel the need to do that. He shakes the thought from his head as he exits the front doors, cool September breeze lifting the tuft of unruly fringe off his forehead and making his eyes water. He can see his bus is just about to pull off, and even if he sprints, he won’t be able to make it so he just sighs and accepts his defeat.

“Motherfucker,” he breathes out, fixing the strap of his backpack and staring hatefully at the back of the bus as it starts to drive off.

“Unlucky,” he hears Calum say and silently agrees. Fuck Bart and his long ass lectures, anyway. “I can take you home if you want?” Calum offers, but Luke quickly declines. Luke lives twenty minutes away from the college, in the opposite direction of Calum. He doesn’t want to put him out too much, and forty minutes is a lot of time to waste.

“You sure?” Calum asks. “Ash is at work until half five, so I’m on my own until then. I really don’t mind.”

Luke shakes his head again. “Thanks, man, but it’s fine. I’ll walk to mom’s.”

Calum looks at him for a few seconds before muttering “Alright,” and waving, turning to walk in the direction of the car park.

Luke shouts bye after him, and shoves his earphones into his ears. He scrolls through his music until he finds something he feels like listening to and starts to walk.  

*~*

As much as Luke complains about where he lives - in the kind of pop punk way that he’ll never get out of it and it’s sucking the soul out of him - he really doesn’t mean it. Well, sometimes he does, like when the roads are blocked with snow during the winter and he can’t get anywhere without risking frostbite, or when it’s baseball season and everyone goes a little bit bananas. But on most days, when he walks home through the more rural part of it, the smell of grass and fresh air clearing out his lungs, he really can’t complain.

Boston is nice, and Luke’s glad his family moved here. He doesn’t really remember much about Sydney, being only four when they left because of his dad’s promotion, but it doesn’t bother him that much. In Boston, he gets snow at Christmas and his summers are hot (with the first snow fall of every year comes his mother’s retelling of how Ben cried the first time he had a white Christmas), and for the most part the food is good so he’s happy to call it home.

The falling leaves and the broody music make him feel like he’s in some kind of music video, so he acts it out (in his head of course), and so doesn’t really pay attention to the commotion around him. It’s only when he collides with a small man dressed in black overalls and carrying a big, glittery ball that Luke is pulled back to reality and sees the horde of people filling the street and watching as the last few tents are being set up.

Luke knows about this circus. Everyone in Boston knows about this circus. Hell, everyone in the United States knows about this circus. It travels nine months of the year, but from September until the middle of November, it stays put, setting up in one of the large open fields that are surrounded by massive trees and are used mainly for music festivals. And where most of the local teenagers go to smoke pot and listen to rave music on Saturday nights. The ground is rocky and uneven, so it can’t really be used for much else. It’s a nice place though, and once or twice Luke has sat underneath one of the huge trees, reading a book or listening to music.

The circus is a big deal, kind of. To everyone that’s not from around here and doesn’t have to put up with shit traffic and packed McDonald’s for a solid three months. Luke’s passive about it. He’s twenty one years old; he’s not going to get excited about a damn circus. The Hemmings’ did go to it once though, the first year after they moved. All Luke remembers about it is that Jack threw up half way into the show from eating too much candy and they all had to leave. Luke never went back after that, he’d seen enough of it to get it out of his system.

So now as he fights his way through the crowd of people already lining up to get in, even though it doesn’t open for another few hours, he glances at the big sign over the entrance that reads “Cirque de Nuit” in fancy cursive, and goes on about his business.

He does text Calum, telling him that the bloody thing is back and the bus he always gets home is going to be swarming with tourists because one of the stops is right at the gate, and the traffic is going to be backed up for ages. Calum texts back telling him to lighten up, and that’s that.

*~*

As much as Luke likes living on his own – well, with his housemate – he does miss going back to his mom’s and having a warm dinner and open arms waiting for him, instead of two day old pizza and Alex greeting him with a “What’s up, wanker?”.

When Luke opens the front door to his childhood house the smell of gingerbread and hot chocolate almost knocks him out and his chest aches a little bit, because no matter where he goes or how old he gets, that smell will always remind him of Saturday evenings spent with his entire family, before they all got too old to cuddle and watch Disney movies together. “Mom?” Luke shouts as he toes off his Vans, kicking them under the table that holds keys and handbags, and heads towards the kitchen. “You home?”

“In here, sweetheart!” Liz answers, and Luke smiles when he enters the kitchen to see her piping faces and clothes onto the gingerbread men she has spread out on the counter. Luke reaches to take one, but Liz slaps his hand away. “Oh no, you don’t. They’re for Lucy, her and Jack are staying this weekend while Celeste is in New Jersey for a conference.” Luke nods, excited at the prospect of seeing his niece and rests his elbows on the counter. “How was your first week back, hon?”

“Boring, as usual. Have Bart again, Calum’s in my seminar group and Alex managed to give himself food poisoning already.”

“You know,” Liz says, putting the piping bag down and looking at Luke. “You didn’t have to move out. Think of the money you’d save. Just because you’re in college now doesn’t mean you can’t live with your-”

“Mom,” Luke interjects. “I gotta grow up sometime.”

“I wish you’d stay my baby boy forever,” Liz almost whispers as she picks up the piping bag again, lining out a pink dress. Luke hates when she gets like this, it almost makes him feel guilty. He walks around to the other side of the counter and pulls her into a hug.

“I’ll always be your baby boy, mom,” he says, and mentally slaps himself when he does because it’s literally so cheesy and gross. But it has her laughing and swatting at his chest so he doesn’t mind too much.

“Stop kissing ass,” Luke hears coming from the doorway and turns his head to see Jack hauling in a massive suitcase, a smaller bag resting on top of it. Luke can faintly hear Lucy in the sitting room, cooing at Molly and telling her she missed her.

“Are you moving back here, or what?” Luke asks, eyeing Jack’s luggage and raising his eyebrows.

“Just you wait until you have a kid,” Jack says, and he sounds disinterested. Luke knows he’s too focused on the gingerbread men to even look at Luke any more. Liz seems to pick up on it too, because she’s pointing her finger at Jack.

“No,” she says sternly. “They’re for your daughter.” Jack’s shoulders visibly slump, and Luke almost laughs.

He’s about to ask Jack if he wants to have a Fifa tournament or something later on, after Lucy goes to sleep, when there’s a loud scream of “Uncle Luke!” and he has an armful of laughing five year old. Luke swings her around in a circle and blows a raspberry on her neck, making her squeal with delight before he sets her on the counter.

“Hey Rockstar,” he says, holding his fist out for her to fist bump. “How was school today?”

“Okay, I guess,” Lucy replies, eyes wandering to the baked goods that her grandmother is putting on a tray to let the icing set. Luke scoffs; she’s definitely Jack’s daughter. “We played kickball at recess and the ball hit Josh right in the face and knocked a tooth out,” she informs Luke when her attention returns to him. “He was all bloody. It was gross.”

“Did he cry?”

“Yup. Miss Paige had to call his mom to pick him up.” Luke laughs at Lucy’s gossip, lifting her back down to the ground and laughing when she instantly clutches on to his leg.

“Traffic is nuts already,” Jack says, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge. “That fuckin’ circus back again.”

“Language, daddy,” Lucy scolds, and Liz gives her a kiss on the top of her head saying ‘good girl, you tell him’ as she walks past. Lucy beams at the praise, hugging Luke’s leg tighter. Luke runs his fingers through her dirty blonde curls.

Liz turns back to face the boys and Lucy after she’s finished clearing the counter. “I saw them setting up this morning. I thought we might have had some time before all the mayhem started.”

“Daddy, were you ever at the circus?” Lucy asks from where she’s still holding on to Luke.

Jack nods. “Yeah, when I was a kid. Only went the once though, can hardly remember it.”

“Can we go?” Lucy begs, her big blue eyes boring into her father’s and Luke wonders how he’s going to say no to them. “Please? We never do anything fun. I promise I’ll be so good.”

“Jack, take her.” Liz says.

“Yeah,” Luke adds, smirking. “Take her.”

“Okay,” Jack says, smiling at Luke the way he did when he broke their mom’s good vase and blamed it on the youngest. Luke doesn’t like it. “But only if Uncle Luke comes.”

Luke looks down at Lucy, only to be met with big, pleading eyes and a grin that’s missing it’s two front teeth. “Lucy, I was at college all week, I’m-”

“Please, uncle Luke?” Her bottom lip is sticking out and quivering, and Luke feels like the biggest asshole on the planet for making her look like that, even for a split second. He wants to say no, wants to eat some food and get some sleep, but he can’t, not with Lucy looking at him like that.

“Fine!” he exclaims, throwing his arms in the air in defeat. “Fine, I’ll go.” He sends Jack his most hateful glare, and gets a cheeky smile in return, one that has too much teeth on display to be sincere.

*~*

When they make their way to the circus, it’s nearing sunset and the sky is glowing orange – a colour which nicely compliments the leaves on the trees that are starting to fall. Jack has Lucy warned not to tell her mother that she was out this late, and Lucy just grins back at him, zipping up her jacket and skipping down the footpath in the direction of the circus.

They don’t have to queue up that long, which really surprises Luke because he would have thought the place would be crazy with people trying to get in on opening night. Within ten minutes of lining up, they’re stepping into the field underneath the sign and Luke’s jaw drops a little bit.

He was expecting a normal circus – clowns milling about and a few stalls with those carnival games and greasy foods. But this is unlike anything he’s ever seen.

The first thing he notices is that the main tent – the big top – isn’t red and white, but is instead black, silver and purple. That seems to be the colour scheme throughout, because each of smaller tents that are dotted around the field is a variation of those colours. Some are black with silver stars, others purple with black moons, and so many more combinations Luke can’t even count. The people who work here are easy to tell apart from the visitors. They’re dressed completely in black and wearing purple or silver accessories – hats, suspenders, shoes, bowties. Their faces painted black and white – as skeletons, some kind of monsters or with symbols on their cheeks. Luke hasn’t been close enough to see what any of the symbols are yet.   

The smell of cotton candy and corn dogs is thick in the air, and Luke’s mouth is watering before he’s even ten feet past the gate. There are a lot of people walking about the place, but it’s not uncomfortably busy that they have to push and shove past just to get around. Luke can see Jack’s grip on Lucy’s hand tighten, and he giggles when he sees her roll her eyes. She’s growing up way too fast for his liking.

“What do you wanna do, sweet pea?” Jack asks, leading the three of them around the small tents. The lady in the ticket booth told them the next show didn’t start for a half an hour, so they have some time to kill.

Lucy shrugs, eyes roaming around and trying to find something interesting enough to wander over to. “Can I get cotton candy?” she asks, eyes watching as a man swirls a stick around inside a big silver basin, pulling it out when it’s covered in purple fluff.

“I don’t know..” Jack says. “It’s getting late and I don’t want you to be too hyper before you go to bed.”

A few minutes later, Lucy clutching a cotton candy larger than her head, Luke suggests they go to the main tent to get a good seat for the show. He’s not ecstatic about being there, but he reasons he’d rather be there and see it than be stuck behind a big pole or something. They walk around to the entrance of the main tent, the flaps held open by thick velvet ropes.

“Do you think we can go in, or?” Luke asks, squinting to see past the darkness. It’s eerily quiet in there, not a sound coming from inside. His question is answered when a teenage couple holding hands just walk right by them, straight into the tent, and Jack shrugs and makes a ‘what-are-you-gonna-do’ face before following them inside, Lucy trailing along behind him.

It’s completely black inside the tent and Luke can barely see in front of him. He searches for Lucy’s hand, feeling a little bit of relief when he finds it and knows that Jack is on her other side. He doesn’t even know what direction they’re supposed to be walking in, or if there’s stairs or anything.

He’s about to take out his phone and turn on his flashlight when the sound of footsteps comes from up ahead and he can see a beam light bobbing as the person holding it walks towards them. “Hi,” the girl says when she gets close enough for them to see. In the light coming from her torch, Luke can see the massive Cheshire cat grin that has been painted on her face and she’s wearing a bowler hat, but it’s too dark to make out the colour. “Sorry for the wait, had to bring someone else to their seats. You wanna come on through?” She motions with her head behind her, and Luke wants to say no because this is obviously not a circus aimed at children and he doesn’t know if Lucy will be frightened.

But without even saying a word, the three start following the girl as she leads them through a narrow aisle. The place smells of sawdust and plastic, a hint of something chemically hanging in the air as well and Luke finds it quite pleasant. “The first night’s always the busiest, but there are still some seats ringside if you wanna sit there? If not there are plenty of awesome seats in the bleachers, it’s up to you guys.” She smiles at them, and it’s enhanced by the grin she has painted over her own mouth. Luke will admit it’s a little terrifying.  

“Where do you wanna go, Rockstar?” he bends down to ask Lucy, just so he has an excuse to stop looking at that grin.

“What does ringside mean?” Lucy asks Luke, but it’s the worker who answers.

“It’s right at the front, means you get to see all the sweet stuff up close and don’t have to worry about someone sitting in front of you.” She winks at Lucy, and tips her hat. Lucy giggles and tells her she wants to sit there, and follows quickly when the worker turns and leaves, dropping Luke’s hand in her attempt to keep up.

The worker tells them to enjoy the show when they’re seated, and they sit in relative silence as they wait for it to start. Lucy is too busy looking around to speak, eyes wide in wonderment as her eyes roam around the dimly lit tent. Luke leans over the back of her chair to speak to Jack. “Do you remember it being like this?”

“Nope. It definitely wasn’t this creepy last time we were here. If it was, I wouldn’t have taken her,” Jack whispers, gesturing to Lucy with his thumb.

“It’s kinda cool though. I mean, circuses are pretty dorky, but this is something else.” Jack nods, moving his hand from the back of Lucy’s chair to rub up and down her back. She’s literally sitting on the edge of her seat, little red Converse dangling just above the ground.

“Sixteen years and we never bothered to check it out again – can you believe that?”

Luke is about to answer when a hush falls over the crowd and what little light there was is extinguished, enveloping the tent in pure darkness. Luke’s spine tingles a little bit, but he ignores it because if a five year old can sit through this, then so can he.

The silence is tense and thick, everyone waiting for something to happen. Luke holds his breath, and he’s not sure why. It just seems that even breathing will ruin the illusion, will break whatever spell the entire audience seems to be under.

And then the spotlight comes on, and a tall, slim man is standing in the middle of the ring, dressed in black pants and a purple blazer, microphone clutched in his hand as his eyes roam around the crowd. They seem to be taking in every single face, his own face split in a massive smile. It’s too dark for Luke to see Lucy, but he can almost feel her vibrating with excitement beside him.

“Hello and welcome!” the ringmaster says, spinning around and addressing everybody. Luke honestly doesn’t know how someone has the confidence to do that, stand in front of hundreds of strangers and talk. He almost passed out giving a presentation in college. “Welcome, everybody, to the Cirque de Nuit. Hopefully when you leave here tonight, you will have been thrilled, frightened and dazzled! The boundaries of you beliefs pushed, your sanity tested!” Luke again thinks of the five year old beside him and wonders if maybe the people who run this place should point out that it’s one giant creepfest.

“We’ve travelled everywhere, looking for the most talented, most daring, most courageous performers who are willing to share their gift with you!” the ringmaster continues. Luke feels a little hand squeezing his thigh, and puts his own hand over it. He kind of wishes he could see the look on Lucy’s face – he just knows she’s a little bit wonderstruck. “All we ask is that there is no flash photography. Some of the acts require intense concentration, and any distractions could be fatal. Other than that, forget about everything else and lose yourself in the magic for the next hour and a half.” Luke rolls his eyes, because really, lame.

The spotlight goes out and the tent is plunged into darkness again, but not too long after it’s filled with a dim glow. Luke was right, Lucy’s mouth is hanging wide open and she almost has stars in her eyes.

It’s quiet, not a sound from anybody, and no indication that anything is going to be happening any time soon. Luke keeps his eyes on the little parting at the other side of the ring, waiting for the ringmaster to walk back out and introduce a performer. But nothing happens. Luke’s starting to get fed up, getting a little fed up with the pretentiousness of it all, when there’s a body falling from the ceiling, pummelling pretty fast towards the ground, and Luke’s throat is dry. He wants to cover Lucy’s eyes and block her view when the person hits the ground but he can’t move. He closes his eyes, waits for the thump – but it doesn’t come.

He opens one eye slowly, sees the person suspending an inch from the floor, and then opens both eyes. She’s a young woman, early twenties at most, dressed in a glittery purple leotard that shimmers beautifully in the dim light. Wrapped lightly around her ankles and grasped in her hands are long, flowing pieces of silver satin, attached somewhere high above. She twirls around, disentangling herself from the material and takes a bow.  There seems to be a collective exhale from the audience, and it takes Luke a couple of minutes to get his heart beating regularly again.  He watches open mouthed as she runs around the ring, still holding on her satin ropes, and lifts herself into the air again, flying past like something from a dream.

Luke likes to think of himself as a logical person, always listening to reason and trying his best to understand things and how they work. Not necessarily useful things (he can tell you all about jellyfish and cocoa beans), but he likes thinking things through, likes when things have order, make _sense_. But this circus is making him doubt everything. His jaw has hit the floor so many times, and his heartbeat has never been this unsteady before.

He has red indents in his palm from his nails, squeezing his hands tight when the tightrope walkers were dancing across the thin wire better than he walks on solid ground, dropping and swinging by their fingertips, no net below to catch them should they fall. His lip is bitten raw from watching a trapeze artist and her assistant, depending only on a tiny metal bar to keep them up as the bent and twisted in the air. His stomach is still tense from watching a flame dancer, dressed only in black pants and adorned by body paint to keep the flames off his skin, twirling burning batons and fiery hoops around like they’re nothing. Acrobats, sword swallowing, knife throwing – he’s not sure how much more of this he can take.

After all this, it’s the clowns that push Lucy over the edge. Luke really doesn’t blame her; they’re terrifying. Black faces with white eyes and smiles, purple balls on their noses, purple contacts, unruly purple afros with a tiny top hat lost in them, running around and bumping into each other. They wouldn’t look out of place in one of Luke’s nightmares.

Lucy scrambles from her seat onto his lap, and Luke grips her small waist and moves the both of them to the seat she previously occupied. He can’t even make fun of the look on Jack’s face, because he knows that he looks the same. Even the music playing is haunting and heavy, reverberating through Luke’s entire being. It’s equal parts spooky-voodoo and enchanting.

When the clowns scurry out of the ring (finally, Luke thinks), the ringmaster enters again. He thanks them all for coming and hopes they’ve had a good time. “Now, ladies and gentlemen,” he says, when Luke is about to get up and leave. “Our main act!” He smiles again, and backs away, and just like before the entire tent is thrust into darkness.

The spotlight comes on again, and standing in the centre of it is a man dressed in a simple tux, top hat sitting at an almost impossible angle on his head. He just stands there, not moving, not even blinking, and Luke has no clue what the fuck is going on.

The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a long black feather, holding it out in front of him. The next second, it’s on fire, purple flames starting at the bottom and slowly crawling up towards the man’s hand. Just as the flames lick the pads of his fingers, they’re gone, and instead, there’s a raven perched on the magician’s hand. Luke feels as though all the breath has been knocked out of him.

The spotlight shuts off, and the tent is filled with a purple glow. Luke can make out another figure walking into the centre of the ring to join the other, and then there are two spotlights, illuminating the newcomer. And once again, Luke is left speechless.

The assistant is around his age, and is dressed comically simple to everyone else in the entire circus. A simple black button down and skinny jeans, beat up Doc Martens and an eyebrow piercing is his costume. At first glance, Luke thinks his hair is jet black too, but when the light catches it, Luke can see flecks of reds and blues and greens through his fringe. Even a small black and white feather.

Luke is captivated from the second he sees him, aware that he’s staring but is unable to look away. Luke misses half of what the magician is doing, unable to pull his eyes away from the pale young man who looks more magical than anything else Luke has seen. The assistant catches Luke looking, intense green eyes locking on Luke’s cerulean blue, and Luke swears that the young magician winks, actually _winks_ at him.

“Now, we need a volunteer,” the magician announces, throwing his arms out and beckconing to the audience. “Marco, would you be so kind as to fetch me one of our lovely audience members.” Marco salutes at the older man, and (Luke should have known really) walks in the direction the three Hemmings are sitting.

As the assistant gets closer, Luke’s heart rate speeds up, and there’s no mistaking that he’s the one that’s been picked, because Marco’s eyes are on him, small smile on his lips. But when Marco stops two feet in front of him, his eyes travel downwards, landing on the small girl in Luke’s lap, who’s looking back up at him with such an amazed expression that he actually chuckles.

He shakes his head and moves his attention on from Luke, holding his hand out for Jack to take. Luke thinks Jack is going to decline, but surprisingly he doesn’t, taking Marco’s hand and following him. “Oh my god, daddy!” Lucy gasps, and Luke would find it adorable if he wasn’t feeling something weird and uncomfortable in his stomach.

When the show finally ends and Marco and the magician take their final bows, Luke is a lot more disappointed than he would like to admit. Before the ringmaster even finishes his goodbye, Luke is dumping Lucy into Jack’s lap and running towards the exit of the tent. The same girl is standing at the entrance, and sends a quizzical look at him as he rushes past.

It’s dark when he exits the tent, and he’s suddenly aware of how much time has actually passed. The cold September night air is fogging in front of him as he heads towards the other side of the tent. He doesn’t know where this burst of madness has come from, but he wants, _needs_ , to see the assistant. He doesn’t know what he’ll say to him if he catches up with him, but he has to say something. He can’t go home without talking to him, to Marco.

He sprints around the outside of the big top to get to the entrance the performers use, It’s not fenced off or anything, and behind the tent Luke can see massive trucks and trailers, all lit up and waiting on their owners to come back.

It’s then that Luke spots him, ankles crossed as he leans against one of the metal fences that mark out the path. Luke stops in his tracks and watches as the magician walks out, throws his arm around Marco’s shoulders and says “Good job, son!” Marco beams up at the man and they head off towards the trailers. “Has your mom gone back yet?”

Luke loses all confidence as quick as he got it, and sighs before turning and heading back to the entrance where he finds Lucy and Jack waiting for him.

“What the fuck was that about?” Jack asks, staring incredulously at Luke. “You’re a nutter.”

“Nothin’” Luke mumbles, scuffing the toe of his Converse on the ground. “Let’s just go home.”


	2. This Is The Life We've Been Given, So Open Your Heart And Start Loving

Luke is an actual zombie when he attends his Monday morning class. Despite being back in college for a week already, his body is still running on summer holiday time, and so thinks that nine thirty am is _far_ too early for him to even have his eyes open, let alone be out of bed, dressed, and sitting on a hard, uncomfortable chair as his professor sets up the computer. Calum is sitting directly beside him, hood pulled up, and Luke is almost certain that he’s fast asleep.

His suspicion is confirmed when, five minutes later, Calum’s head drops against his shoulder. Luke just pats it sympathetically and goes back to daydreaming about dark hair and forest green eyes. There’s not even any point in him being in college this morning. Ever since Friday night, his thoughts have been plagued with the image of the magician’s assistant, of Marco. He’s not sure why he’s so intrigued by the boy, having only seen him once and spoken to him not at all, but it’s like there’s something clawing at his chest, telling him to go back and talk to him.

His mother even noticed something was up on Saturday morning when he sat down for breakfast. Instead of going back to the place he shared with Alex, he had decided to stay at his parents’ house when Jack was there, spend as much time with his niece and brother as he could because as much as he loves them, he doesn’t get to see them as much as he would like to. While he was pushing bits of uneaten pancake around his plate, Liz pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. “Are you sick, hon?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.

He felt like a bit of an idiot, actually forgetting to eat because he was too busy thinking about porcelain skin – the paleness only emphasised by the entirely black outfit. And that’s not even the worst of it. He wanted to spend the weekend catching up with his brother and playing with his niece because with Jack’s work schedule and Luke attending college, he’s not sure when he’ll get to see them again. But during games of Snakes and Ladders with Lucy, or Halo with Jack, his mind would wander back to those shockingly red lips, pulled into a cocky smile as Marco walked closer to him, the rest of the circus melting away like the two of them were the only ones who still existed. Well, in Luke’s mind, anyway. Marco has probably already forgotten about him.

He thought he would be able to forget about it, but here he is, completely zoning out of his lecture and thinking about a soft curved eyebrow, silver bar poking out of the top and bottom. But he can’t help but be enticed; Marco is like nothing he’s ever seen before. Most of the people in his college are just that – students. But Marco has been places, seen things, and Luke just wants to know every little detail about the pale boy with the coloured hair. He can’t explain it, not even to himself, so he continues wondering what he would say if he were to ever run into the magician’s assistant again.

He’s pulled from his reverie when Calum scoffs and whispers “Brilliant notes, mate. Can I borrow them?” He didn’t even notice Calum’s head lifting from his shoulder, and when Luke looks at his notebook, he sees that he’s managed to colour his entire page blue with his pen, completely unbeknownst to himself. “I know eighteenth century literature isn’t that exciting, but it has to be a little better than that.” Calum gestures to the page with his head, and Luke just stares ahead.

“Mr Hood, is there a problem?” Ms. Jones shouts from her little podium, and Calum just says ‘no, miss’ before pretending to take notes. Luke is trying not to giggle, biting on his bottom lip as he looks at Calum’s ‘notes’ - a very detailed picture of Ms. Jones hanging from a vine over a swamp of alligator’s, clutching a test with a big ‘F’ in the corner.

He’s about to pull his phone from his pocket when Calum’s notebook is being slid onto his knees, page flipped so Luke is looking at page that’s blank except for a ‘ _ur being real weird today. U alright?_ ’ scrawled in messy handwriting in the top left hand corner.

Luke writes ‘ _yeah, just tired_ ’ underneath it, sliding it back to Calum and feeling relieved when Calum doesn’t push it further, instead playing that racing game on his phone again and completely ignoring Luke’s pokes when he sees Ms. Jones staring directly at the two of them, but mostly at Calum.

Luke knows that if Calum _really_ wants to know what’s up, he’ll eventually find out, pestering Luke until he cracks and can’t take it anymore. Calum got into the college on a full sports scholarship, so Luke knows how competitive he is. And with that competitiveness comes a stubbornness and an ‘I’m not gonna give up ‘til I get what I want’ attitude that Luke both admires and is terrified of. Be it an extended essay deadline or a goal on the football field, if Calum wants it, he’ll eventually get it.  If he wants to know why Luke is walking around with his head in the clouds, Luke may as well just tell him straight out and save them both a few hours of nagging and the inevitable migraine that comes with being talked at for like, nine hours straight. It’s happened before.

Luke thinks back to last December, when he knew that Calum had a thing for Ashton and Ashton had a thing for Calum, and neither of them knew how the other had felt but had both confided in Luke, telling him how they were feeling and asking what they should do. Calum had walked into Luke’s room while Ashton was in the middle of a heartfelt rant, stopping short when he saw the subject of his heartbreak standing in the open doorway and looking at the two boys on the bed with a confused expression on his face. For the next few weeks, Luke thought long and hard about slipping Calum a sedative because he would not _shut up_ , asking Luke what Ashton had been talking about. And really, it would have been easier and saved a whole lot of drama if he had of just told then and there, but he had promised Ashton he wouldn’t. Luke was literally about to rip his hair out and tell Calum everything, promises be damned, when he walked into the computer lab and found the two of them making out heavily in one of the spinny chairs.

So yeah, Luke doesn’t want Calum to have an inkling that something is bothering him, otherwise he won’t hear the end of it. He thinks he’s got away scott free when Calum’s eyes scan the note and then immediately go back to his game, not even glancing in Luke’s direction.

*~*

He was wrong.

At seven o’clock Alex is shouting to tell him that ‘Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee’ are here to see him. Before Luke even has time to register that information, Calum is bursting through his bedroom door, starfishing on top of Luke. Ashton makes a much less dramatic entrance, walking in behind Calum and shutting the door gently before pulling Luke’s desk chair towards the bed and sitting on it. “What the hell?” Luke asks, wiggling a little so that Calum’s elbow is no longer digging into his pancreas.

Calum huffs on top of him, toned chest making it hard for Luke to move an inch. “Are you not glad to see us?”

Luke rolls his eyes, shoving at Calum’s shoulders until he finally rolls off, plastering himself against Luke’s side instead. “Of course I am, who wouldn’t want to be attacked in their own bedroom?”

“To be fair,” Ashton adds as he spins idly in semi-circles on Luke’s chair. “I didn’t attack you. That was all mister ‘I Have A Plan’ over there.” Calum gives Ashton the finger from where he’s half buried by Luke’s duvet, and Ashton replies with a “Love you too, baby”. Luke almost coos at how cute they are.

“What’s the plan for?” Luke enquires, regretting it almost immediately when Calum’s eyes lock on his and there’s malice dancing in the soft chocolate brown of them.

Calum repositions himself so he’s resting on his elbow, looking down at Luke. “A plan to get you to talk,” he says, bright white teeth glistening as he grins. He looks a little terrifying and Luke can see why he was appointed captain of the football team, a title usually reserved for players who have been in college a lot longer. He looks determined.  

“Talk about what?” Luke asks, trying to sound as uninterested as he can. He knows it’s useless because Calum’s face just splits into an even wider grin and Ashton is moving closer on the chair.

“You’ve been acting weird all day. You spent the entire morning in some kind of stupor and didn’t even notice when I coloured your ear green with a highlighter.” Luke shoots Calum an incredulous look as Calum hands his phone over to Luke, front camera open so that he can check for himself.

“You motherfucker,” he groans when the image on the screen confirms that his ear is, in fact, bright green. Calum looks far too pleased with himself when Luke hands back his phone.

“So, what is it?” Calum asks. “I think it’s family stuff, maybe alcohol. Romeo over there thinks you’re pining over some fair maiden or handsome lord.” Luke just stares at Calum, eyebrows raised and trying not to laugh.

“I never said fair maiden or whatever,” Ashton defends, chewing on his nails. “I said ‘girl’ and ‘boy’, like you know, a normal person and not that moron whose ‘master plan’ was to literally lay on top of you until you talked.”

“Whatever, Irwin, you’re dating me.” Luke rolls his eyes because they’re so far past dating that they’re practically married. He envies them a little, as do most of the people who attend their college because they’re so different yet so compatible that it’s annoyingly adorable. If Luke believed in soulmates and all that romance novel stuff, he would have no doubt that Calum and Ashton complete each other, should always be CalumandAshton. “Anyway, back to Luke. What’s bugging my little prince?”

Luke just looks at Ashton like ‘what the fuck?’ and Ashton shrugs, resting his chin on his palm. “Honestly, Cal, I’m fine.” And he is, really. He’s not behind on any work (Calum is the only person Luke knows that can fall behind on assignments on their second week back), and he hasn’t tripped himself up in public in like, four months, which is a new record for him. The only thing that’s bothering him is the boy he saw for twenty five minutes, and it’s a little embarrassing.

Calum doesn’t look like he buys it for a second, but Ashton pipes up “See? I told you he’s okay. He’ll tell us when he wants us to know,” Calum looks betrayed, staring at Ashton like he just said that all dogs should be put to death and he hates Calum’s tattoos.

“Look at what you did, Hemmings. My own boyfriend, turned against me!” Calum puts a hand over his heart before flopping dramatically back onto the bed and making Luke’s body jump with the force of it. Luke rolls his eyes and shimmies his phone out of his jean pocket, checking the time and replying to a text from Jack.

“I’m bored,” Calum complains, staring at Luke’s ceiling and swatting Luke in the chest to get his attention after a few minutes of comfortable silence. Did you hear me, Hemmings? I’m _bored_.”

“And _I’m_ not your fuckin’ babysitter, what do you want me to do about it?”

Calum raises his head and shoulders from the bed. “Ashy? What do ya wanna do?” Luke almost wants to make some joke about no fucking in his bedroom but a flustered and grumpy Ashton and the hundreds of subsequent jokes from Calum aren’t worth it, so he continues to scroll through his phone, not really looking at anything on the screen, just doing it to have something to occupy his hands.

“Hey!”Ashton exclaims, sounding excited. Luke braces himself because when these two have ideas they’re usually dangerous or something that isn’t necessarily illegal, but the law kind of frowns upon it anyway. “You guys complain about that circus blocking up the traffic and ruining your lives all the time but have you ever been to it? We should go!”

Luke’s heart quickens, thoughts of his boy (and when the _fuck_ did he start thinking of him as _his_ boy? Jesus Christ) going through his head. He wants to go, wants to see him just one more time, but also doesn’t want to do it with, as Alex has so appropriately named them, Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. He loves them a lot, but if they found out he was crushing on the circus boy while they’re within shouting distance of him – well, that’s a whole different spectrum of embarrassment that Luke isn’t even prepared to _think_ about let alone deal with.

“I was there on Friday night with my brother and Lucy. It’s creepy as hell, man, and I don’t want to go back, like, ever.” A total lie, and said with a completely neutral tone and straight face. Luke feels a little proud.

Calum takes a second to look offended before speaking. “You told me you were too tired to do anything on Friday night.”

“I didn’t wanna go,” Luke says, defending himself. “Lucy wanted to see what it was like so Jack and I took her. Not like I’m cheating on you two with new nest friends.”

“Awh, we’re your best friends!” Ashton enthuses and Luke throws one of his pillows at the head of curly hair, regretting it immediately after because his perfectly structured pillow nest is now crumbling. Ashton grumbles when it makes contact with the side of his face. “Best friends don’t hurt each other.”

 “What do you mean creepy?” Calum asks, referring back to the circus.

“Just.... creepy. Like everything is dark and a bit morbid. Kind of like if Tim Burton ran a circus.”

Calum nods beside him, and Ashton just stares at the edge of the duvet that’s sliding off of Calum’s back and exposing a sliver of tanned skin. Luke wants to throw another pillow at his face. “You’re not putting me off it,” Ashton says, eyes finally moving from Calum’s skin and looking at Luke again. “If anything you’ve peaked my interest and made me want to go even more.”

“Well,” Calum says, rather loudly, as he pulls himself off the bed and stands looking from Luke to Ashton. “I’m up for it. Don’t be an oddball, Luke. Put on a jacket and let’s go.”

*~*

The lady at the ticket booth tells them that they’re fifteen minutes too late to catch the last show, but they can go in and look around for free if they want, since the other booths and tents stay open a bit later. Luke’s heart does a strange little dropping thing, like he can actually _feel_ it land in his stomach when he realises he probably won’t see Marco. He was dragged out of his warm bedroom with the promise of seeing the boy (well, he kind of promised himself, but whatever) and it was wasted. He tries not to be in such a bad mood, but can’t help it.

Calum is busy throwing severed voodoo-doll heads at mason jars, trying to knock them down and win something for Ashton while Luke stands looking on like the most awkward third wheel ever. He should have known this would happen. It doesn’t happen very often, when the three of them go out, that Calum and Ashton act all coupley. The three of them were friends before those two were boyfriends, so going out in a group never really changed. It’s just sometimes, it does, and Luke doesn’t blame them because it’s kind of like, an unspoken rule that if you’re with your significant other and there’s carnival games within reach, the noble thing to do is win them something. He looks at the once white tip of his Converse and rolls a stone with his heel of his shoe when there’s a stuffed vampire being thrust in his face and Ashton’s smiling like Calum literally just handed him the world.

“He’s cool right?” Ashton asks. Luke says yes, even though the thing looks suspiciously like his Uncle Brian. If he had better hair and fangs.

Every time a worker passes them, Luke inspects their face, trying to decipher if the one person he came here to see is buried under all that paint. Then he remembers that there’s still a show going on, and Marco is very much a part of it. Calum and Ashton are talking amongst each other, Calum tucked in against Ashton’s side, resting his head on his shoulder, and Luke walks along behind them, looking into some of the tents and booths. Luke thinks he sees one that does piercings, but he could be wrong.

They’re near the big top when Luke sees the mass of people starting to exit. His eyes go a little wide and he scans the sea of people for black clothes and coloured hair, standing on his tiptoes to get a better view. “See someone, Lukey?” Ashton asks, and Luke shakes his head no.

“Thought I saw someone from our college.” For moment he considers ditching the other two and heading around to the back of the tent again, where he knows Marco leaves from and maybe starting a conversation. But he can’t think of a good enough excuse to leave, or a good enough reason to have left when he comes back after chickening out. Plus, he doesn’t want to freak the guy out, so he goes back to following the other two around, the strings of lights hanging between each tent lighting up the night perfectly.

“Ooh, food!” Calum says, heading to a booth that sells hot dogs and cans of soda. There’s plastic garden furniture in front of it, which Ashton heads straight for, Calum going to order them something to eat. “Want anything, Luke? I’m buying.”

“No thanks, Cal. I’m just gonna walk around a bit more, but I’ll meet you back here soon.” Calum nods, turning to ask Ashton what he wants. Luke heads in the opposite direction, the only person walking through this part of the circus. He can hear people talking in the distance, but they may as well be on Mars because Luke doesn’t even acknowledge that others actually exist at this moment in time, just walks underneath the strings of yellow lights, occasionally looking up at the stars, just because.

He can see the rocky wall that surrounds the field and the huge trees getting closer, and he’s about to turn and head back when he spots a tent, completely black and almost hidden in the shadows. Luke only notices it because the lights are reflecting on rows of silver stars dangling from the doorway, hiding whatever is inside. There’s a wooden sign driven into the ground outside of it that just says “TAROT READING” in messy black paint. It looks like it was painted in a rush, kind of like somebody remembered at the last second. The whole thing looks like it wants to be forgotten about, left alone.  It’s ominous and spooky and Luke is intrigued.

Luke moves closer, just to investigate if this particular tent is actually open, and he can see a faint light coming from inside, so he pushes through the row of confetti stars.

The tent is dimly lit, just one main light and a few candles scattered about which Luke thinks are definitely not safe. He’s too busy looking around that at first he doesn’t even notice the person sitting behind the big wooden desk, Doc Martens resting on top of it as they shuffle through a deck of cards. Luke squats down to look at some weird statue that’s a mix between a dragon and a dog (maybe? He’s not too sure) when someone coughs from behind him and he remembers that, yeah, there’s actually someone in here that he should probably speak to.

“Sorry,” he says, turning around to face the desk, but the rest of his sentence dies in his throat and his hear actually stops beating for a few seconds because he’s there, right in front of Luke. The right side of his face is painted as a skeleton, and his left eyebrow, the pierced one, is raised as he smirks at Luke. Luke has no idea what to do, what to _say_ ¸ because the person he’s been thinking about non-stop for days is now two feet away from him and neither of them are speaking.

Eventually, the assistant does, swinging his legs from the table, gesturing to the empty chair in front of him and saying, “Take a seat.” It takes Luke’s body a few seconds to catch up with what his brain wants him to do, and he awkwardly lumbers over to the chair that’s directly in front of Marco’s. He just hopes the blush he knows is spreading over his cheeks isn’t too visible in the faint light when he finally makes it to the chair. He forgets how to sit for a second, long legs going in weird directions, but he manages to pull himself together, crossing his ankles and clasping his hands between his knees.

Marco leans forward in his chair, and Luke notices that the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. His eyes catch on a pendant, dangling between Marco’s collar bones on a black cord, and squints his eyes to make out what it is.

“It’s a pentagram,” Marco says, still looking at the cards he’s shuffling and Luke’s face feels like it’s about to burst into flames because he just got caught practically drooling over this stranger’s chest. Smooth. “Don’t worry; I’m not gonna try sacrifice you to Satan or whatever. I just think it looks cool. Hey,” he exclaims when he takes his eyes from the cards and finally gets a good look at Luke. “I like your shirt!”

Luke’s mouth refuses to work, and he’s trying to get words to leave his lips, but all he manages is a feeble “huh?”

“Your shirt?” Marco says, using his hand to gesture Luke’s torso. Luke looks down to see what shirt he’s wearing, and spots his old tattered Misfits one. He wanted to change, wear something fancy in case he managed to run into the magician’s assistant, but Calum and Ashton pushed him out the bedroom door, shouting that there was no time to change. He barely had time to grab his denim jacket. “I have the same one.”

“Oh.” Luke literally wants the ground to swallow him whole because he’s been thinking about what he would say if he were to ever be in this position, him and Marco one on one, and he can’t get past on syllable. And a syllable that doesn’t even make sense. So he tries again. “Th-thanks?”

Marco is looking directly at him, eyes squinted a little bit, and Luke squirms a little bit under the intensity of his gaze. He just knows his cheeks are bright red, and he considers getting up and walking out before Marco is tilting his head to the side and asking “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Luke takes a deep breath and runs his answer through his head, just to be sure that it makes sense and he doesn’t make a bigger idiot out of himself. “I was at one of the shows. On Friday night.”

Marco throws his head back and laughs. “Of course! I remember you now.” He smiles at Luke then, red lips (with one side painted black) pulled back to reveal white teeth. Even with his face half covered in paint, Luke thinks he’s the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on. “How did your daughter like it? I hope she wasn’t too scared,” Marco asks as he spreads the cards out on the table, dragging his index finger over the back of them.

Luke scrunches his face up in confusion, wondering what he meant by daughter. “My daughter? No I don’t...” And then it dawns on him, and he feels a little guilty for forgetting about his niece. “Oh no, that’s Lucy. She’s my brother’s kid, not mine!” Luke thinks he can see something shift in Marco’s green eyes, but he’s most likely just imagining it as Marco chuckles and picks up the cards again.

“So, Mister, how..”

“Luke,” he interrupts, not sure where it comes from but just knowing he doesn’t want to be addressed as ‘mister’. “My name, it’s uh, it’s Luke.”

“Okay, Luke,” Marco says, smirking again, not even looking as he shuffles the cards in his hands, he eyes locked right on Luke’s. “How about that tarot reading?”

Luke nods, biting his lip as he watches Marco’s long fingers shuffle through the cards and laying them face down on the table, some in piles of two and some by themselves. When he seems content with the number he pulls, he flips them all over, studying them for a few minutes, making little “hmm” and “ah” noises. “Interesting,” he says when he takes his eyes form the cards spread out, looking at Luke again, smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. “According to my cards,” he says flatly. “You’re going to get your right arm ripped off by a grizzly bear and bleed to death. Look, you got the death card.”

Luke stares at him before scoffing and rolling his eyes. “You’re gonna be sorry if that actually happens.”

“Indeed I would,” Marco says, his attention back on the cards. He lifts his eyes from them for a second, smiling at Luke and pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. Luke tries his best to ignore the butterflies going crazy in his stomach, and the dizzy feeling in his head, looking instead at the tarot cards adorned by skeletons and werewolves and knights.

“Anything interesting?” Luke asks when the silence becomes a bit much. He can’t pull his eyes away from the pentagram dangling against Marco’s chest, wondering if it’s warm from being against his skin, or if it would be cold to touch.

“Nothing really. Just – take college more seriously this year, but don’t overdo it either. Relax a bit more, spend more time with friends and family instead of spending it alone.” Luke’s breath catches in his throat, because those are the things he’s been worried he was doing wrong – blowing off meet ups with Calum and Ashton and avoiding family dinners sometimes to stay in bed and read comic books, freaking out about everything and anything. “There is this, though.” Marco’s voice brings him back to the present, and the tarot reader is sliding a card across the table for Luke to have a look at it.

Luke picks it up. It’s a lot thicker than he thought, and he can feel the weight of it in his palm as he looks at the picture. It’s of two skeletons, closely entwined. It’s difficult to tell which skeleton is which. They’re in the middle of a golden frame, the background completely black, and written in a scroll across the mirror in some kind of gothic cursive is “The Lovers”. Luke’s not sure why it’s interesting, but he feigns a noise of surprise and hands it back to Marco, who then studies it himself.

“It’s not that unusual for someone to get this card,” he says, still staring at the card in his hand. “People get it all the time. It’s just, with all your other cards, it’s different. It doesn’t just mean you’re in love, or have someone that loves you or whatever.” Luke waits a second for Marco to finish, but he doesn’t. Luke notes that he likes leaving people hanging onto the end of his sentence.

Luke wants to ask, but doesn’t want to ruin the atmosphere in the tent. It’s completely silent apart from the sound of his quickened breathing. From the angle Marco is holding his head, Luke can see the reflection of a flame from a candle dancing in the dark black of his pupils.

“It’s a lot deeper than that,” Marco starts again, still looking at his hands. “With all your other cards, it means that there’s going to be one person for you; you’ll have one great love in your life. Kind of like a soulmate, if that explains it any better. It means that once you meet this person, no matter what happens, you’ll always find your way back to each other, always be there for each other because there’s no one else out there for you. Either of you.”

The atmosphere is thick and electric when he finishes talking, and Luke finds himself fidgeting in his seat. Marco finally takes his eyes from the card, looking directly at Luke. For a second, it’s like that moment in the circus, when their eyes met and everything else sort of faded into the background, except this time it’s more intense. There’s something inside him, clawing underneath his skin and telling him to do something, say something, anything, but he can’t. He’s in shock, completely captivated by the depths of the emerald eyes locked on his and he can’t look away.

It’s Marco that breaks first, blinking and shifting his gaze down to the table again. “So, uhm, definitely no grizzly bear in your cards,” he says, smile on his face again and just like that the mood is lighter.

Luke laughs and lifts his ass off the seat so he can pull his wallet from his pocket. He starts sifting through the bills when Marco holds his hands up. “No, no, it’s on the house.”

“Are you sure? I can pay you, I mean...”

“Nope, it was fun. Honestly, I don’t want your money.” Luke is in a kind of daze when he pulls himself out of the chair and starts walking towards the door of stars. The candles have burned down since he entered, and the light in the tent is dimmer, casting massive shadows across the floor and material walls of the tent.

Before he makes it to the exit, Marco is walking towards him and stopping him in his tracks. Luke turns around to face him, actually feeling his feet turn in together and being unable to stop them, cursing his awkwardness as Marco saunters closer to him, confidence oozing from his every step. “It was really nice meeting you, Luke.” Marco’s hand is held out in front of his, and Luke just looks at it for a moment before he cops on that Marco is waiting on a hand shake.

So Luke takes Marco’s hand in his own. It’s surprisingly warm and soft, smaller than his and fitting in his grasp perfectly. He almost doesn’t want to let go, Marco’s warm palm making his own tingle. And then warm skin is replaced by something colder as Luke feels something sliding into his hand.

Marco is backing away from Luke then, smiling and waving. “See you around, Mister Luke.”

Luke looks down at his palm and is met with the lovers, looking right back up at him. His face flushes and he stuffs it into the pocket of his jeans and goes to find Ashton and Calum.

After finding his way back to the little food truck and discovering the garden furniture to be vacated, he pulls his phone out of his pocket to call Calum and ask where he is. When he sees he has four missed calls and six messages from Calum, all asking where he is and explaining that the two of them have left and Luke has to call the second he gets home, Luke checks the time.

His jaw almost hits the floor when he sees it’s nearly been an hour since he left Calum and Ashton, although it doesn’t feel like that at all. He walks towards the exit of the circus, still on cloud nine after his meeting with Marco, and so doesn’t even mind the long walk home.

*~*

He walks straight past Alex, who’s passed out on the sofa, when he enters his house, locking the door behind him and going right to his bedroom. With the door closed and the blind drawn, he finally allows the smile to appear on his face, after holding it back the entire walk home in case he looked a little too psychotic. He shoots Calum a text, saying he made it home okay and just got a little caught up in one of the booths at the circus.

When he’s stripped of his clothes and dressed in his plaid bottoms and a stretched out t-shirt, he picks his jeans up from the floor so he can fold them. When he drapes them over his forearm, something falls from his pocket and flutters to the ground.

After he bends to pick it up, he sees it’s the tarot card. He studies the picture on it again while something flares up in his chest, flipping it over in his fingers. It’s then that he notices something he missed in the darkness of the tent, something he would never even have thought to look for.

Scrawled on the back of the card in silver gel pen is a phone number. And underneath: “ _Marco. But you can call me Michael :) x_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from The Garden by Take That and it's honestly one of the most beautiful songs ever so if you haven't you should check it out :)  
> And as always you can come talk to me on Tumblr cause y'all are awesome and I love talking to you -> t1mbutron


	3. Before It All Ends, Before We Run Out Of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this chapter's a little bit longer than usual. The next one will probably be the same, cause this is where most of the stuff happens, and I don't see much point in splitting it up and also the titles fit so  
> Title from Greatest Day by Take That  
> Enjoy x

Luke’s been sitting on the edge of his bed staring at the number scrawled on to the back of the tarot card since he came home from college three hours ago. His stomach is tense and weird, and the more he looks at the silver writing, the more light headed he feels. He’s afraid to text or call in case he somehow irritates the boy and Michael decides he isn’t worth it and never speaks to him again, but he also doesn’t want to _not_ text, because he can’t just ignore Michael either.

He’s hovered his finger over the call button so many times, written and deleted so many texts, that he feels like a complete moron. The rational part of his brain is telling him that Michael wouldn’t have given him his number if he didn’t _want_ Luke to use it, while the other part of his brain is telling him that Michael is far too pretty and interesting to even give someone like Luke the time of day. He groans and throws himself back on the bed, phone still clutched in his hand. He wants to scream into a pillow, but he decides that’s being far too dramatic, so he settles with staring at the ceiling and giving himself a mental pep-talk that includes a lot of swear words and groaning.

Half an hour later and he still hasn’t made any move to contact Michael, although he has moved from moping on his bed to moping on the sofa and watching Alex suck at a game of Call of Duty. His video game skills are actually so bad they’re making Luke feel a little better. While he watches Alex try to throw a grenade, dropping it by accident and subsequently blowing up his own character, Luke feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. His heart actually stops for a minute, and he freezes along with it, afraid to even unlock his phone.

He eventually does, though, and wants to actually smack himself on the back of his head. Because it’s only Calum asking if their assignment is due in tomorrow’s class or next week. Of course it’s Calum, because Michael doesn’t have his number; how could he possibly text him? Luke slumps back against the sofa cushions and doesn’t even laugh when Alex’s guy on screen gets shot again and Alex starts yelling profanities at the television.

“Bastards!” Alex shouts, throwing himself back beside Luke and turning his head to look at him better. “What’s up with you? Your shitty mood is putting me off and making me lose.” Luke rolls his eyes. He wants to tell Alex that his shitty playing is making him lose, but decides against it, settling for just shrugging his shoulders when Alex looks at him expectantly. “C’mon, roomie,” Alex says, nudging Luke with his elbow. “Tell Al what the matter is.”

“It’s nothin’” Luke answers, picking at the hole in the knee of his jeans. He hears Alex let out a little breath of air from his nose, and is a little impressed by how annoyed Alex managed to make it sound.

It’s silent for a minute between them, the only sound filling the room is the gunshots and explosions coming from the television. “Did you get dumped?”

“What? No,” Luke replies, shaking his head and looking disbelievingly at Alex, who hasn’t even taken his eyes from the television screen.

“You dump someone?”

“I’ve been single since we moved in together. How did you... You know what? Never mind.” Luke laughs a little, and Alex doesn’t even acknowledge that he heard a word Luke said, just reaches forward and grabs a handful of M&Ms from the bowl on the coffee table. Luke thinks they’re conversation is over, so he stands up to get a drink of coke from the kitchen.

“Is it _because_ you’re single?” Luke turns back around just to hit Alex across the head with one of the fancy pillows on the couch that are far too small to be comfortable. Luke never really knew what their purpose was, but he guesses he found at least one job for them.

When it’s nearing midnight and he’s lying in bed, he decides to be brave about the whole situation and bite the bullet. Worst case scenario, he doesn’t get a text back. Best case, he gets to talk to Michael properly, no weird ghost cards or the fact that Michael’s in the middle of a show between them. He takes a moment to wonder if it’s rude texting this late, if he’ll wake Michael up, but he does it anyway, before the last bit of confidence he has drains away and he’s back at square one.

 _“hey, it’s Luke, from the tarot reading? Anyway, you wrote your number on the card, and I guess you wanted me to use it? So how are you?”_ He hesitates for a second before hitting send, aware of how awkward and loser-y he sounds, but knowing if he puts it off any longer he’s never going to send it. He covers his face with his hands, and takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing pulse before he sleeps.

His room is illuminated by faint light when his phone screen lights up on his night stand, telling him he as a message from an unknown contact. He tries to stop his hands shaking as he grabs his phone and tries to unlock it. Right under the message he sent to Michael is his reply, and Luke has to blink a couple of times to make sure he’s not seeing things and he actually did get a text back.

_“Ah, mister luke! I was starting to worry that I wasn’t gonna hear from you. I’m doing fine, and how are you?”_

*~*

“You’re being really weird,” Calum says before shoving almost a whole cheeseburger into his mouth. Luke looks up from his phone to stare at him in disgust, while Calum chews almost serenely, his cheeks puffed out with food. Ashton doesn’t even comment, just hands Calum a napkin when he swallows and goes back to picking at his own lunch. “I mean, you haven’t stopped staring at your phone all day, and you’re smiling like a tool. Not that that’s a bad thing, it’s just - why?”

Luke places his phone on the desk then rests his head in his palm, watches as Calum continues to attack his lunch like he’s got something against it. It looks even more horrendous because Ashton is sitting beside him and actually cutting up the lettuce in his side salad before putting it in his mouth.

“Cal, your food isn’t gonna go anywhere. You can slow down.” Calum opens his mouth to show Luke the yellow mush his fries have become, and Luke shakes his head and mutters “You’re disgusting. Ashton, your boyfriend is an animal.”

“Yeah, in bed,” Calum argues, and Luke just stares at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Why am I in love with such an idiot?” Ashton grumbles. He leans his head against Calum’s shoulder, and has a dopey little smile on his face when Calum rests his head back against Ashton’s, kissing the top of it for good measure. Luke looks at them for a minute, envies the way Calum’s arm automatically goes around Ashton’s shoulder, and the way Ashton just seems to _fit there_.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when his phone vibrates, the sound amplified against the hard surface of the cafeteria table. Before he even reaches for it, he has a smile on his face, knowing exactly who the text is from. He can feel Calum eyeing him suspiciously, but doesn’t care as he reads the text from Michael.

Michael and he have been texting since Luke sent the first message the night before, with the exception of when they were both sleeping. But they had text through all of Luke’s morning classes and through the most part of lunch. Conversation with Michael is easy, talking about anything and everything; from music to Michael’s rehearsals and Luke’s college work. It feels nice, having someone else to talk to. He loves Calum and Ashton with everything he’s got, but he sometimes wishes he had other friends to do stuff with. He knows that they both feel bad when they want to do couple things without him, like they’re abandoning him or something, and he doesn’t want to be like their child. He talks to other people in his classes, but they’re more of acquaintances than friends, and he wouldn’t really fancy spending more time than he has to with any of them.

And although he and Michael have only been texting, he knows Michael is different. They like a lot of the same music, Green Day, My Chemical Romance and the Misfits, but they argue over it too. Over Metallica vs. The Offspring and Avenged Sevenfold vs. Weezer. Luke thinks Michael’s music taste suits him perfectly; dark and heavy. He’s never really listened to Metallica before, but he’s downloaded one of their albums onto his phone for the bus ride home after Michael gushed about them for a half an hour, sending Luke lyrics and songs to listen to. _“their self titled,”_ Michael had recommended. _“it’s not their best, but their most popular. You might know a few of the songs from it.”_

“Who is it?” Calum asks almost accusingly as he points at Luke’s phone with a fry covered in ketchup. Luke pulls his phone closer against him, almost to shield it from Calum’s prying eyes, even though he knows Calum can’t see it.

“Uh, it’s Ben. Wants to know if I want to go to his place this weekend.” He’s getting good at this lying thing, and thinks to himself that he needs to stop. It’s not that he wants to _hide_ Michael per se, he just wants to keep him for himself for a little while longer. Which is a little weird and selfish, but he doesn’t really care as he looks at the text again.

_“Are you free later? I finish my last show at 8, wanna hang out? :)”_

He smiles and types out a reply, saying that he _definitely_ wants to hang out, and he doesn’t even want to know what shade of pink his face currently is because Calum just scoffs and mumbles “Ben, my ass.”

*~*

By quarter past eight, Luke’s stomach is a mess of nerves. Michael told him to met him at the gate around half, to give him time to change after the show and get his make-up off. Luke rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans as he stares into his wardrobe, looking for something to wear. He doesn’t know if he supposed to dress fancy or casual, so he settles with pulling a plaid shirt from the mess of clothes and throwing over the t-shirt he’s already wearing. He tugs on his battered old Vans and grabs his phone before checking his hair one last time in the mirror and walking out his bedroom door.

“Where are you heading?” Alex shouts, his head peeking over the back of the sofa. His hair is tousled and his eyes puffy, so Luke knows he just woke up.

Luke shrugs, slipping into his jacket. “Out.”

“Luke Hemmings – going out?” Alex gasps, his hand covering his mouth in mock surprise.

“Shut up. I have my key so don’t wait up.”

“Luke Hemmings,” Alex says again. “Going out on a _college_ night. They must be something special.” Luke chooses to ignore him, instead pulling the door open and heading outside.

It’s surprisingly dark outside, considering it’s still so early in the autumn, and Luke wishes for the millionth time that he could afford a car as he walks down the path, orange glow spilling from the ancient street lights and not doing too much to illuminate the pavement. It’s cold too, and he hunches in on himself, hugging his jacket closer around him to preserve some body warmth.

As he approaches the entryway to the circus, he starts to panic because Michael hasn’t said anything about where to meet him. He doesn’t have to worry about paying in, because once the shows are over it’s free, but he still can’t help but feel jittery, his nerves tingling. He’s about to take his phone out of his pocket to call Michael, let him know that he’s here, when he sees a figure in the distance. They’re sitting on the fence by the entrance idly swinging their leg and playing on a Nintendo, and when Luke gets closer he can make out the colours in their fringe, the feather almost hidden amongst the greens and blues but still peeking out. His breath hitches a little when Michael looks up from his game to see who’s approaching, face splitting into a grin when he sees that it’s Luke.

“Hey, you came!” Luke tries to look as nonchalant as he can, even though the butterflies in his stomach are going crazy at the excited tone to Michael’s voice. He nods and smiles as Michael stands up and shoves his Nintendo into the pocket of his sweatpants.

 “Of course!” He says, his heart beating faster with every step Michael takes towards him. “Did you not think that I would?” Luke asks, jokingly bumping Michael’s shoulder when he gets close enough.

Michael bites his lip, and Luke thinks he can see a blush dusting across his cheeks and he mumbles a quiet ‘no’. But then he looks at Luke again, smile back on his face. He’s beautiful like this, Luke thinks. As nice as Michel looks in his stage or work clothes, the black a stark contrast to his pale skin, he looks adorable in his oversized hoody with the sleeves pulled over his hands and grey sweat pants. “So I was thinking we could just like, chill together? I mean, I know you’re busy with college so we can relax and listen to some music if you’d like? Plus it’s cold as balls, so I don’t really wanna wander around outside all night.”

Luke nods his head and smiles. “That sounds great.”

Michael turns and starts to walk towards the circus, checking over his shoulder to make sure Luke’s following, and Luke does, jogging a little to catch up. When they walk past the ticket booth, Michael shouts a “Hi, Mary!” at the woman behind the desk and just walks right on through, reaching back to grab Luke’s wrist and pull him in a direction Luke has never headed either of the previous times he’s visited the circus. He tries to ignore the way that the skin Michael is touching is tingling, but he can’t, focussing entirely on the feel of Michael’s hand grasping at his wrist. “It’s just through here,” Michael says, but Luke can already see where they’re going. It’s the section of the field where all the trucks are parked, monstrous machines of shiny black and silver.

Michael manoeuvres the both of them through the horde of trucks until they’re standing in front of one near the back, and connected on to it is some kind of trailer. It’s the trailer that Michael leads them towards and Luke’s jaw drops when Michael opens the door and leads them both inside.

“Holy shit!” Luke says when Michael comes to stand beside him after closing the door. “This entire thing is yours?”

Michael shrugs, heading over to the bed and sitting on the edge, patting the space beside him for Luke to sit down. “Perks of being an only child, I guess.” When Luke sits down, his eyes roam around the truck. It’s literally like someone put a boy’s bedroom on wheels. There are crooked band posters hung up on the walls – Metallica, My Chemical Romance and a Mistfits one over the bed. There are stacks of Stephen King and other horror novels stacked randomly around the room – on the floor and on shelves. There’s a shelf full of DVDs and CDs, action figures and comic books, t-shirts strewn all over the place. “Sorry, it’s a little messy,” Michael says, biting his lip and looking a bit sheepish.

“No, it’s fine! Cooler than my room, anyway,” Luke points out, smiling at Michael. It’s a little awkward, sitting there in the silence. When they were texting, it seemed they always had something to say and now Luke wishes he was as confident in person, could pull conversation topics out of thin air. But Michael is sitting staring at Luke, smiling as if he can’t believe Luke is actually there, and all Luke knows is that he doesn’t want to say something stupid and let Michael know how much of a loser he actually is.

“We could watch a movie, if you want?” Michael says, gesturing to his shelf of DVDs and Luke almost agrees until he spots something sitting on Michael’s desk that he didn’t see before. It’s an old CD walkman, headphones attached and CD inside like Michael still uses it. So Luke gets up to inspect it.

“Oh my God,” he chuckles, picking the walkman up and turning to face Michael. “I haven’t seen one of these since like, 2002. You don’t still use it, do you?”

“Shut up,” Michael laughs from the bed. “I like it.”

Luke turns back to look at him, can see the red flush creeping up to the tops of his ears. “Do you like, walk around with it? And you can only listen to one album at a time. Oh God, do you carry CDs around, too?”

“What is so amusing about my walkman?” Michael asks, mock hurt in his voice. “It’s stuck by me for years.”

“It’s just,” Luke says, shaking his head and giggling. “iPods were invented like ten years ago, dude.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Anyway, I invited you over so we could hang out and stuff, not so you could insult my crappy technology.”

“I think even calling it technology is a bit much,” Luke says with a smirk. He can’t really blame Michael for chucking the pillow at him; he thinks he deserved it too.

Michael sighs and flops down on the bed. Luke tries his best not to look at the little bit of pale tummy that’s revealed when Michael’s hoody rides up a little bit and he doesn’t move to fix it. “Anyway, insulting aside, we can watch a movie or listen to music or whatever you wanna do, I don’t mind.”

“I listened to some Metallica on the bus home, and I liked it.” Luke says, walking the short distance over to the shelf and scanning Michael’s CD collection. Michael just hums his reply and when Luke looks over at him, he has his arm down the side of the bed plugging in his Nintendo to charge. It’s pretty impressive, Michael’s album collection, ranging from heavy metal to punk, even some Michael Jackson, Elvis and Bruce Springsteen.  After a few seconds of scanning bands and titles he’s never even heard of let alone listened to, he finds what he’s looking for and pulls out the case. “Thought maybe we could listen to them some more? You can tell me what’s good.”

Michael is practically beaming when Luke turns to face him again, getting up from the bed and walking over to where Luke is standing, pulling the CD from his hands and kneeling down to get another one. “This one’s better,” Michael says when he has a different album in hand, holding it out so Luke can see the name written on it. ‘Master of Puppets’. Michael stands up, walking over to his bed and pulling a laptop out from underneath his pillow. “This is the first album of theirs that I listened to. It was my dad’s, but I found it in his room and I just took it. Been in love with them ever since.”

Luke doesn’t know what to do, because there’s nowhere else to sit other than on the bed with Michael. He doesn’t know if that’s appropriate first hang out etiquette; squishing onto the same bed. It’s not that it’s a small bed, double at least, but he’s over six foot, and Michael isn’t too short either. Michael’s tongue is poking out as he focuses on getting the CD to play, turning the laptop on it’s side to find the button that opens the CD drive. Luke stands awkwardly watching as Michael clicks on a few things and then the music is playing softly from the speakers.

“You okay?” Michael asks, small frown on his face when he sees that Luke is just standing there, biting on his nails and looking at anywhere but Michael. Luke nods, and Michael scooches up on the bed, resting his back against the wall and putting a pillow in the space beside him, gesturing for Luke to join him. So Luke does.

An hour and a half later, and they haven’t moved. Michael left the bed once and came back with a stack of albums and a bag of pretzels that he pulled from somewhere, sticking the open bag between his left thigh and Luke’s right to keep them from spilling. Michael switches the CDs every so often, giving Luke little anecdotes about how he found out about the bands or the first time he heard certain songs. Luke clings on to every word, telling his own stories and smiling when Michael hums along with the music playing, singing along occasionally. It’s nice, he thinks, just relaxing and talking about nothing.

Michael’s blinds are still open and through the window, Luke can see just how dark it’s gotten. He knows it’s getting late and he’s probably overstaying his welcome but he can’t pull himself away from the boy beside him, who’s currently rummaging through a pile of discs, murmuring about finding the right one, sliding it into the laptop when he finds it. Luke knows the song as soon as the introduction comes from the laptop and he smiles, resting back against the wall. “This is one of my favourites,” he tells Michael as the sound of Disenchanted fills the room.

“Mine too,” Michael says, clicking the shuffle option and pushing his laptop off to the side. “It‘s fitting, really. Says it like it is. That everything starts out great and wonderful, and the things we thought would be good for us, things that we thought would be perfect, are just empty promises and disappointments tied up in pretty bows. But even with all that, it makes me feel hopeful, too. Like I just have to accept life and move on, and then maybe I’ll be able to make something of myself.” Luke nods, turning to look at Michael. He’s messing with the cuff of his sweater, eyes glued to the worn material, like he just told Luke something he never meant to and maybe by not acknowledging it, it can be unsaid.

“I know what you mean,” Luke answers softly, glad Michael still isn’t looking at him because he doesn’t think he’s be able to say anything if Michael’s eyes were on his. “Like with college and stuff. I hate it, but I keep telling myself that a good job and steady income will make me feel okay, and the only way I’ll have any of that is if I study. If I just put my head down and do the work, accept that it’s what has to be done.” It feels surprisingly good to get that off his chest, telling Michael that he’s a little unhappy seems to make it hurt a little less.

But when Michael looks at him, his eyes are dull, and Luke has never seen them lacking so much of their vibrant colour. It’s a little scary, seeing Michael like this. Luke only knows him as the magician’s assistant, the card reader. The confident showman. But Luke guesses that’s what it all is – a show. Right now, Michael looks anything but confident, and Luke wants to run, wants to get out of there because he’s not too sure he can deal with this. But he also _wants_ to deal with it, wants Michael to be able to tell him things in the hope that between the two of them they can somehow make it okay.

So he moves closer to Michael on the bed and squeezes his knee reassuringly, and Michael smiles at him. It looks wrong, because it’s not a happy smile, but Luke will take what he can get. “I feel guilty,” Michael says. He moves his gaze from Luke, instead looking at the wall in front of him, head leaning back against the wall. Luke is confused, but he doesn’t want to push, knows that if Michael wants to elaborate, then he will. Luke just squeezes his knee again to let him know he’s there.

“It sucks, you know? Cause I have everything I want, and my mom and dad, they’ll get me whatever it is I need. And I get to spend my life travelling around different places and seeing everything and meeting all these people. But none of that really matters when it’s your birthday and there’s no one to celebrate it with. When you see groups of people just hanging out, and knowing you can never have that because you’re never in one place long enough for people to remember you when you’ve gone. I feel guilty, because I’m surrounded by all these people and I just feel so damn lonely all the time. I was born into this, schooled on the road. I don’t know how to do anything else or _be_ anyone else.”

It takes a minute for what Michael said to sink in, and when it does, Luke feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. There are so many things he wants to say to try and make Michael feel better, tell him everything will eventually work itself out and he’ll feel great. But then he guesses it’s not really his place; he’s known Michael a few days, he can’t start telling him how fine everything is when he knows next to nothing about the way that Michael lives. “I don’t think you need to be anyone else,” Luke admits, feeling a little embarrassed. He’s glad he said it, however, when Michael looks at him again, and a little bit of that sparkle is back in his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, laughing and bumping Luke with his shoulder.

“I’m saying that, even though I only spent one night with you, I don’t think you need to be anyone else because the someone you are is already pretty great.” Michael’s mouth is hanging open, eyes wide, and there’s redness decorating his cheeks. “And I’ll definitely remember you.” Michael looks down at his lap again, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth and for a minute Luke is scared that he said the wrong thing. Michael seems frozen for a moment, but then he leans his head against Luke’s shoulder and mutters a ‘thanks’, so soft Luke almost doesn’t even hear it.

*~*

It becomes somewhat of a routine after that, for Luke to spend his evenings with Michael. When his classes finish for the day, he shouts bye to Calum and sprints out of the lecture hall. He feels bad for blowing off his friends lately, but he can’t help it. Michael is like some kind of magnet, pulling him in, and Luke can’t fight against his force. Sometimes he gets out in time to catch the bus, more often he doesn’t, but it doesn’t really matter because the destination is the same, no matter how he gets there.

And by now, Mary in the ticket booth just waves him on through, often calling to him when she sees him walking past so that he doesn’t have to queue up. Sometimes Michael is sitting on the fence, waving when Luke gets close enough and then grabbing his wrist and pulling him to his room.

There they’ll lie on Michael’s bed and talk, listen to music or watch television, play video games while eating shitty food and drinking cans of Coke. When Michael has shows, Luke will stay in his room doing college work or reading, using Michael’s walkman to listen to Michael’s CDs to see if it’s as good as Michael claims it is. That is, unless Michael insists that he come along and watch, that hanging out by himself for so long has got to be boring. Luke doesn’t bother telling him that it could never be boring, because he knows that Michael will be back to joke with and laugh at the bad acting in terrible movies. It’s the most comfortable that Luke has felt with anyone (that isn’t his family, Calum or Ashton) in _years_ and it feels nice.

And spending all this time with Michael has made Luke realise three things. 1) Michael’s laugh is without a doubt the most beautiful thing that Luke has ever heard, loud and clear, more impressive than anything any orchestra could ever play. 2) Michael has no concept of personal space. Luke doesn’t mind when Michael clings to him like a leech, head tucked into Luke’s shoulder and hand bunched up in his shirt. Or when they’re both lying down and Michael will rest his head against Luke’s chest, or sit so close that Luke may as well pull him into his lap. But what Luke _does_ mind is the way that his stomach flips every time Michael touches him, the way Michael’s cologne fogs his brain and makes him dizzy, the way that no colour ever comes close to being as beautiful as the emerald green of Michael’s eyes or the soft pink of his lips. And the most terrifying and dangerous 3) He has the ability to fall completely head over heels in love with him.

By the end of their first month together, Luke is drowning in college papers he’s yet to start and readings he has to catch up on, and Michael is doing two shows a night. So naturally, they’re both sprawled out on Michael’s bed, Luke balancing a bowl of popcorn on his chest and reading an article on Rudyard Kipling while Michael tips away on his Nintendo, cursing under his breath when he loses, and holding up a hand for Luke to high five when he wins. The rain is pelting down heavily outside, thundering against the roof of the trailer, almost deafening. It’s a Friday night, and he doesn’t have to be up early for class the next day, but he still doesn’t fancy the idea of walking the streets after midnight, and it’s already half eleven.

And as if Michael can read his mind he says “You don’t have to leave, you know.” Luke turns his head to the side to look at Michael, who’s still concentrating fiercely on his game, his tongue peeking out the side of his mouth as his thumb jabs furiously at the buttons. Luke can’t pull his eyes away from the dark stubble that’s sprinkled across Michael’s jaw. “With the rain and you know, it’s late. You don’t have to walk home.”

Luke’s stomach tightens, and he can feel his heart rate quickening, He knows he should say no, more to preserve whatever sanity he has left than anything else. But he’s weak, and can’t turn down more one on one time with Michael, doesn’t even want to think about doing so. He needs Michael to be the one to make him leave, because given the choice; he’d stay here in Michael’s bed forever. “I don’t have anything with me. And where would I sleep?” he asks, trying to sound as normal as he can, eyes returning to roaming across the page getting more crumpled in his tightening fist, but not comprehending a single word.  

Michael shrugs, shutting his Nintendo with a snap and chucking it down to the bottom of the bed. “You can borrow sweat pants, if you want. And you can sleep on the bed, I’ll take the floor.” Michael’s rolling onto his side towards Luke, face snuggling into his pillow and yawning. He looks so cuddly and warm that Luke just says “Okay”, dropping his pages to the floor by the bed and turning to face Michael. “I’ll stay.” Michael’s smile is sleepy, but still bright and crinkling the corners of his eyes. He has to climb over Luke to get to his drawers, pulling out two pairs of flannel pants and two ratty t-shirts.

Michael’s clothes smell like him, and Luke never wants to take them off. Michael sets up bedding on the floor before joining Luke on the bed again to watch some television before they both turn in for the night, but half way through an episode of Criminal Minds, Luke can hear gentle snoring and can feel soft hair tickling the side of his neck. His suspicions are confirmed when he turns his head to the side and sees Michael fast asleep, head lolling to the side and resting against Luke’s shoulder. He chuckles lightly so he doesn’t wake Michael up and powers down the laptop, sliding it under the bed and getting up to turn off the light.

Because he has no self control, he steps over the makeshift bed on the floor and climbs into Michael’s actual bed, smiling to himself when Michael makes a noise of contempt when Luke is beside him again and drapes an arm across his waist to keep him close. That’s not really necessary, Luke thinks, because he’s not going anywhere.

And in the morning, they wake up still wrapped up in each other, a little pink cheeked and messy haired, but neither of them making a move to get out of their blanket nest. The rain is still falling heavily, so Luke tightens his arms around Michael’s waist and buries his nose in the black hair and breathes in the scent that’s just so _Michael_ , while Michael tells him about the time when the circus was in Belgium, and while he was at the store picking up sweets, everyone had left without him.

“Here,” Michael almost whispers, handing an earphone to Luke and putting the other one in his own ear. He’s scrolling through the music that Luke put onto his old iPod and gave to Michael to listen to, landing on Mayday Parade. The time on the iPod tells Luke that it’s after midday, bit he doesn’t care, pulling the blankets over his shoulder and closing his eyes. Not sleeping, just wanting to focus on nothing but the feel of Michael, warm and solid in his arms and the sound of Hold Onto Me filling his ear. “I like this one,” Michael says, and Luke can almost feel Michael’s lips moving against his neck

*~*

Luke can’t stop running his fingers through Michael’s jet black hair, tugging gently at the soft strands as Michael lays with his head on Luke’s thigh. “You’re so wrong,” Michael informs Luke, face blank but smiling eyes giving him away. “There is no way that anyone even comes close to Stephen King. The man is a genius!” And Luke should have known that when he got into this discussion with Michael, he was bound to lose. The fact that Michael has at least one copy of everything that the man has ever written should have given him a clue about how much Michael loved him.

(“Why do you have five copies of Pet Sematary?” Luke has asked, holding a copy in each hand and looking at the other three that were still on the shelf. “Are they not exactly the same?”

“Oh my God, Luke!” Michael said, sounding exasperated. “One’s a hardback and the other four were published at different times, so have different author’s notes and covers, so no, they’re not ‘exactly the same’.”

Luke had just raised an eyebrow and stared at Michael, not being able to help the smirk that was tugging at his lips. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Shut up,” Michael said, but smiled and pulled one of the books from Luke’s hand, holding it up in front of him. “You wanna borrow it? I promise it’ll scare the shit out of you,” he added with a wink.)

Luke laughs, pushing Michael’s multicoloured fringe away from his forehead. “I dunno, I mean, I watched The Shining and it was alright, but nothing special.” Luke loves riling Michael up, because his cheeks go all pink and he loses himself halfway through sentences, getting so into his arguments that he tries to get all his thoughts out at once. He talks with his arms, Luke notices, when Michael gets particularly lost in one of his rants and makes wild gestures with his arms and runs his hands through his hair, making it stand on end. He’s adorable, and Luke finds himself disagreeing with Michael just to piss him off and then laughing when Michael’s at tipping point. When Luke tells him he’s only kidding, Michael visibly deflates and bumps against his shoulder, fondly calling him an asshole or jerk or whatever else he can think of.  

“Oh my God,” Michael says, shooting up from Luke’s lap and looking at him with wide eyes. “That movie isn’t even.... Like it doesn’t.... You can’t.... You know?”  

Luke giggles, and Michael stares at him like he’s lost his mind. “No, Mikey. I don’t know.” Michael looks like he’s about to say something, but doesn’t, face going blank before he’s smirking at Luke instead. Luke’s a little worried for a minute, because he doesn’t know what Michael’s thinking, has no way to read his face.

“’Mikey’ huh?” Michael asks, smiling, and Luke can feel all the blood rushing to his face. He starts sputtering out little apologies, aware that he sounds a little weird and his voice has risen about three octaves, but Michael just cuts him off with a grin and a shrug. “Mikey,” he says again softly, almost testing it out. “No one has ever called me that before. I like it.”

Michael is staring right at Luke again, and this happens a lot more than Luke’s heart is capable of dealing with. Each time Michael looks at him like this, like Luke is the one who hung all the stars and painted the galaxy, it makes his pulse quicken and his chest tighten and every nerve in his body is just screaming _michaelmichaelmichael_. Michael’s eyes shift so they’re looking at Luke’s lips, his tongue poking out and running across his own bottom lip before pulling it in between his teeth. Luke knows what Michael wants, what he himself wants, but he’s frozen stiff - half hoping Michael will lean forward and half hoping he’ll be able to do it himself.

“Luke,” Michael breathes out, and it sounds a little scared, but that’s okay, Luke thinks, because he’s a little scared too. He reaches out and brushes Michael’s hair away from his face, the action ten times more intimate than when he had done it not even ten minutes ago. He leaves his hand at the back of Michael’s neck, and Michael’s eyes close, his breathing getting heavier.

 _This is it_ , Luke thinks as he starts to pull Michael closer to him. They both want it, so he’s going to do it. It feels like Michael is trembling, but it could be him. It’s probably the both of them, and Luke opens his mouth to ask Michael if he’s sure, because he doesn’t want Michael to regret a thing.

And then his phone is ringing from the floor, and Michael scrambles back on the bed so fast it’s as if he was burned, almost toppling himself over the edge. Luke takes a second to come back to himself, to register that Michael is no longer close and that he should probably open his eyes.

He leans over the bed to see Liz’s face flashing up at him, “It’s my mom,” he says dumbly, staring at his phone like he doesn’t know what it is.

“You should uh... You should probably get that.”

*~*

“You’re so lucky you’re not in college,” Luke groans out, flopping sideways onto Michael’s bed, laptop still perched on his thighs. “I’m honest to God drowning in stress and unfinished essays right about now.” Michael pats his head before going back to League of Legends, and Luke sits up straight again, looking at the essay that’s still over five hundred words too short. “This is bollocks, honestly. Why do all these assholes bother with hidden meanings, anyway? If you want to tell us something just come right out and fucking say it.”

“I’d say I understand what you’re going through, but I really don’t,” Michael says, smirking at his screen and shouting “Hey!” when Luke whacks him with a pillow.

“You could at least pretend that you feel sorry for me. I want your sympathy.”

Michael laughs then, and Luke continues to glare at him although he doesn’t really mean it. There’s too much fondness in his eyes for the look to have any real heat behind it.

Michael is still immersed in his game, not even smiling when he says flatly “I’m so sorry that you left all of your college shit until last minute and landing yourself in this totally avoidable predicament.”

Luke puts his hand over his heart. “Thank you, that means a lot to me.”

Michael scoffs and rolls his eyes, muttering “dork” under his breath, but it sounds more like a compliment than an insult, so Luke doesn’t take offense, just goes back to looking for a really long quote to stick in his essay and build up the word count.

From the corner of his eye, Luke can see Michael closing his laptop and moving to sit cross legged on the bed, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes don’t move away from Luke, and Luke feels a little awkward, shuffling on the bed, but can’t shake the feeling of Michael watching him. He tries to focus on his essay, but that’s futile now. All he can feel is the weight of Michael’s eyes on him, watching him. It’s quiet and awkward, the only sound the clicking of Luke’s keyboard as he types out nonsense. “What’s it like?” Michael asks out of nowhere, and his voice is weird, heavy.

“Hmm?” Luke enquires, biting his bottom lip and shutting his own laptop, placing it on the floor along with his pages of notes and a few pens. He climbs back on the bed, moving to sit in front of Michael. His eyes have gone dull again, the colour they were the first night Luke spent with him and Luke hates it because he knows Michael is upset about something. “What’s what like?”

Michael looks down, clasping his hands between his legs. When he speaks it’s low, almost like he’s embarrassed, and Luke would have missed it if he wasn’t already straining to hear what Michael wants to ask. “College,” Michael mumbles, looking anywhere but at Luke. “Is it - Is it as fun as it looks in the movies?” And oh. _Oh_. Luke suddenly feels about two feet tall, because he knows that Michael wants to go to college, he’s told him a number of times, but can’t because he doesn’t have the means to. And here Luke is, complaining all the time because he has to do a few assignments. College is definitely not as exciting as the movies make it out to be, but Michael doesn’t know that, never _will_ know that, and Luke’s heart suddenly feels too heavy for his chest.  

“It’s not all it’s hyped up to be,” Luke says, trying to sound as normal as he can while Michael is looking at him with those big eyes. “I mean, you wake up early in the morning to sit on chairs that kill your ass while some boring as fuck professor talks at you for two hours. And don’t even get me started on finals and papers,” Luke says with a laugh that sounds fake even to himself.

Michael’s eyes are back on his hands, twisting the silver ring around his finger. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, well, uh,” Luke starts, but he doesn’t know what to say to make Michael feel better. He hasn’t looked up from the silver wrapped around his finger, and Luke wishes he would, and they could start arguing about books or directors again, just like they usually do. But that doesn’t look like it’s going to happen, so he decides to just tell Michael how much his college life sucks in the hope of making him feel a little better. “It’s not all it’s made out to be, honestly. No fraternities or all night parties or whatever. Just more coffee in your body that blood and mounting stress levels. Not to mention being dirt poor and living on cup noodles and cereal. It’s probably not at all what you think it’s like. The movies are most definitely lying.”

Michael nods, eyes still downcast but hands now clutching each other in favour of messing with his ring. “I wish I could see what it’s like. Just for a day.”

“Maybe one day you can?” Luke adds, just to say something. It’s not the right thing to say, and he realises that when Michael lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head.

“I never can. I was homeschooled, just the basics like writing, reading and like, preschool math. I never took any exams or anything, so I’ve literally no qualifications. And even if I made it into college, I wouldn’t know how to get by. I was born into all this shit, been travelling my whole life. And it’s great for the most part, all the adventure and stuff, but sometimes I just want to settle down; live life like a normal person. I know nothing else other than this, Luke, and there’s no way I’ll ever be able to get out of it.” Michael leans back against the wall and presses his palms against his eyes. “It’s like a fucking prison.”

The silence is thick between them, and Luke doesn’t know what to do, what to say. Michael’s hands are still over his face, but he’s too quiet so Luke knows he’s not crying, and he’s happy about that much at least. But he still looks so small, so _vulnerable_ , and all Luke wants to do is pull him into his arms. It’s not strange for them to cuddle and hug, they’ve been doing it since they met practically. And even after the near kiss, Michael still clings to Luke like he’s the only thing that keeps him grounded. And in this moment, maybe Luke can be what keeps Michael sane, even for a little while.

So he crawls across the bed and kneels in front of Michael, grabbing his wrists and pulling his hands away from his face. Michael looks confused for a second, eyebrows furrowing together, but Luke just keeps a hold of him, pulling him closer until Michael gets the idea and falls against Luke’s chest, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing tightly. Luke’s arms instinctively go around Michael’s shoulders, shuddering a little when Michael’s warm breath ghosts across his neck.

Luke’s not sure how long they stay like that, but he does know that Michael feels wonderful in his arms, face nuzzling against neck his every so often, hands bunching the hem of Luke’s t-shirt and his soft fingers brushing lightly against the skin of his back. Eventually, Michael starts to move away. Luke slides his arms from Michael’s shoulders, cupping the back of Michael’s neck with his hands and resting their foreheads together so Michael can’t get too far away.

“Luke,” Michael croaks out, his voice hoarse. “What are you doing?”

Luke doesn’t answer, instead leans forward to press his lips softly against Michael’s who gasps in surprise before leaning forward more, kissing Luke back. Kissing Michael feels different to anyone he’s ever kissed before, Luke thinks. Michael kisses him deeply, hands still bunched in the fabric of his shirt as he brings himself even closer against Luke’s body. It’s still innocent, just their lips pressing softly together over and over, but it has Luke’s head spinning nonetheless.

Luke is the one to break the kiss, needing air. Michael’s eyes are still closed when Luke pulls back, and he doesn’t move. “Was that okay?” he asks, stomach queasy in case he read the signs wrong, in case he crossed some sort of line.

“Luke,” Michael says, eyes swimming with something Luke can’t decipher, but doesn’t like the look of. “Luke, I have to leave.” It hits Luke harder than he thought it would, because he _knew_ that Michael never sticks around anywhere. It’s like suddenly there’s a timer above Michael’s head, counting down the seconds they have left together. And because Luke is selfish, he decides he’s going to make the most of it.

“Not right now, you don’t.” He leans in again, relieved when Michael does the same. And when he feels Michael smile against his lips, his heart might have skipped a beat or twenty.

*~*

 Luke’s sitting in his Wednesday morning lecture, Calum lying out across three seats, his head on Luke’s thigh, and still somehow managing to take notes. Luke rolls his eyes fondly at his friend before his eyes go back to the phone he has clutched in his hand. Michael is usually still fast asleep at this time, so Luke isn’t expecting the notification to pop up at the top of the screen telling him he’s got a text from the boy. His heart drops a little bit when he reads the text, telling him that Michael has some rehearsal or something on all day and won’t be free until after nine. Luke just texts back that he’ll see him then, with a kiss on the end, before he slides his phone into his hoody pocket and leaning back against the chair.

“Trouble in paradise?” Calum whispers, not even looking at Luke. Luke doesn’t answer, just flicks Calum on the ear. “I know you’re seeing someone,” Calum points out. “You’re neck is completely purple. You don’t know how to hide things very well, do you?”

Luke almost chokes on his breath, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Michael has a thing for sucking bruises on to Luke’s neck, and Luke gladly lets him. But it never occurred to him before that yeah, other people can definitely see them. Since their first kiss, Luke has spent every free moment he can over at Michael’s, and most of that time is spent trading rough kisses while heavy music plays in the background and Luke’s brain tries to keep up with the fact that this is his life, that this is happening. To _him_. He still lies awake at night wondering how all this happened, if someone is playing a massive practical joke on him.

“When do we get to meet them?” Calum asks, smiling brown eyes looking up at Luke. “Gotta make sure they’re treating my Lukey right,” he adds with a wink. Luke can see the professor staring right at him, and she must think he’s losing it and talking to himself because there’s no way she’s able to see Calum from where she’s standing.

Luke just draws a line down Calum’s cheek in blue pen and mumbles “shut up”.

*~*

Because he’s not going to see Michael straight after college, Luke decides to call in to see his mom on his way home. He feels bad because he hasn’t seen her in so long, and so pulls his hoody tighter around his neck to hide some of the marks before stepping into his old home.

“Hey mom,” he shouts from the doorway, and follows the source of her reply into the sitting room, where she’s sitting on the overly plush sofa and thumbing through one of her magazines.

“Hello, darling,” she says, discarding the magazine on the coffee table and opening her arms for Luke to hug her. He goes gladly, sitting on the sofa beside her and falling into her side and letting her pat at his hair. He doesn’t care how much Ben and Jack call him momma’s boy, because that’s exactly what he is. “Wasn’t expecting you to call today. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” Luke replies, kicking his shoes off and pulling his feet up onto the sofa. “College work is piling up already, but I’ll pull through. How about you and dad?” Liz doesn’t answer him, and when he takes his head from her shoulder he can see her smiling at him. He furrows his brows in confusion, not liking the look on her face because he knows it well. It’s the look she had when he told her he likes boys and not girls, and when he used to play sick to get off school. It’s a look that says _I know something_.

“Who is it?” Liz asks.

Luke’s hands instantly fly up to try and cover his neck, and he knows he’s just confirmed every suspicion that she might have had. “Huh?”

“The person who has you walking around like a lovesick puppy. Anyone I know?” Luke is about to protest, but Liz holds up her hand, cutting him off. “Don’t even bother denying it. You’re practically glowing. I’ve known you your whole life sweetheart; I know when you’ve got it bad for someone. Remember Gary-”

“Oookay,” he says, cringing when he remembers his first boyfriend and how awkward the whole ordeal was. “Enough of that.”

“So who is it?” Luke can feel her eyes linger on the skin just under Luke’s ear – Michael’s favourite place – and she’s smirking, so he decides to just tell her, reckoning it can’t do any harm.

“You don’t know him, but uh, his name’s Michael.” Liz’s smile is so big it nearly splits her face in half, making her eyes crinkle around the edges.  

“And how long have you been with this Michael?”

Luke scratches the back of his head. “Well we’ve uh, we’ve been like talking and hanging out and stuff for a month and a bit, but we’ve been together for a couple of weeks now. But I don’t know if we’re _together_ together, but I guess we’re something.” He can feel his cheeks flushing, but Liz looks genuinely happy for him, pulling him back in for another hug.

“Well, I want to meet him. Saturday, dinner, I won’t take no for an answer.” Liz says when Luke has his head resting against her shoulder.  His stomach suddenly feels like lead, but he doesn’t argue with her. He feels a little bad that he’s not been spending so much time with her, but he wonders if Michael will even agree to come.

He knows that Michael is leaving soon, and that’s all either of them have said about the matter but he can’t help but wonder if maybe Michael _will_ come. Luke doesn’t know if they’re boyfriends or whatever, but they spend a lot of time kissing and cuddling, and if there wasn’t a clock hanging over their heads then they probably would be more. So Luke just cuddles against his mother some more and says “I’ll invite him.”

*~*

“You’ve been summoned,” is the first thing Luke says when he walks into Michael’s trailer, not even bothering to knock anymore. Michael just turns his head towards the door, taking his attention from the novel he’s holding in front of his face and looking at Luke with an expression that just reads ‘what?’. Luke’s brain falters for a second, because Michael is curled up on his bed wearing a shirt that is most definitely Luke’s, and his eyes are red and sleepy, and Luke’s heart melts a little bit.

“My mom,” Luke starts, toeing off his Converse and walking over to the bed, flopping down beside Michael and resting his head on his chest. “She kind of, she worked out I was seeing someone and then she got all excited and mom-y. She’s uh – she’s invited you over for dinner on Saturday.” Michael visibly pales, his face draining of colour and his mouth opening a little bit. He looks more than a little terrified.

“Luke,” he says, but seems to run out of words because he just places the book on the bed and shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Luke tries to shake of the feeling of disappointment that settles over him, running his hand down Michael’s arm to lace their fingers together. He expected Michael to say no, but it still stings a little bit. “Why not?” Luke asks, rubbing his thumb over the back of Michael’s hand. “Please?” Luke asks, fluttering his eyelashes, and Michael scoffs.

“Because it’s parents.” Michael grumbles, trying not to look at Luke but failing miserably. “And I suck meeting people in general, and I’ve never met parents before but I know it will go horribly wrong. Don’t make me do this.”

“I don’t wanna make you do anything,” Luke says, feeling a little bad when he sees the panic written all over Michael’s face. He leans forward to press a kiss to Michael’s lips, soft and chaste, just to reassure him. Of what, he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s to reassure himself. “I just thought it would be nice if I got to show you off for a bit. We never do anything other than walk around outside and then lay on this bed.”

“Luke,” Michael breathes out. Luke knows where this is going, where it always goes. “I’m leaving. I don’t want to-”

“Will you stop saying that? I know you’re leaving, but I thought for once we could just forget about it!” He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but this conversation is hurting a little more than he thought it would. But Michael doesn’t even flinch at Luke’s sharp tone, just fixes him with an even harder stare.

“How can we just forget about it, Luke? I don’t want you putting too much into this, into _me_ , because it’s gonna come back and bite you in the ass and I don’t want you to get hurt! I’m _leaving_! For almost a full year!”  Luke can’t answer, because it seems that with those few words Michael has taken all the air from his lungs. He knew he was feeling a little too much for someone he knew he’d have to let go of – but the way Michael kisses him, holds him, he thought Michael may have been doing the same.

“So is that all I am then?” He asks, and he figures it would sound angrier if he wasn’t still on Michael’s chest, their fingers still interlocked. “Someone to just pass the time with?” Michael stares at him with wide, hurt eyes.

Michael’s eyes move from Luke’s to his chest, crease between his eyebrows as he frowns. “How can you even say that to me? You know the circumstances as well as I do. We both knew what we were getting into. I just don’t want it to hurt you as much as I know it’s going to hurt me when I have to go and leave you behind.” His voice is wobbly, and it leaves Luke with a heavy heart. He just squeezes Michael’s hand and moves to kiss his neck, leaving his face there after he gives him a soft kiss and nuzzles against the warm skin.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just thought it would be fun, you know?  Change of scenery and all that, do something normal couples do instead of just laying around in here all day. I thought that’s what you wanted? To do something other people do?”

Michael’s arms tighten around his waist, cheek rubbing against the top of Luke’s head. There’s a hint of laughter when he asks “We’re a couple?”, and Luke feels the iron fist that had closed around his heart loosen a little bit.

“Don’t be a dick,” Luke replies, resting his ear back against Michael’s chest and listening to the steady beating of his heart. It’s oddly comforting, and Luke finds himself being lulled into sleep, Michael’s fingers carding through his hair before resting on the back of his neck.

There’s a heavy sigh above him, and his head rises and falls with the movement of Michael’s chest. “I’ll do it,” he hears, when he’s teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. Groggily he turns his head so he’s looking at Michael, who has his nose buried back in his book. “If you want me to, I’ll do it. But if I pass out or like, vomit on a member of your family, you’re gonna have to deal with it because it will have been entirely your fault.”

Luke smiles, then, kissing Michael’s clothed chest. “Thanks,” he says softly. “My mom really wants to meet you.”

“Oh God, I hope she has low expectations.”

Luke kneels over Michael, pulling the book from his hands, dropping it beside his head on the bed. He leans down just enough so that their noses are brushing, lips still millimetres apart, and he moves back when Michael tries to close the distance. “For me, she only has the highest expectations. And you exceed them all.”

Michael rolls his eyes underneath Luke, but has an embarrassed little smile on his lips that Luke finds ridiculously endearing. “Dork,” Michael giggles, and Luke leans down to kiss the smile off of his face.

*~*

 By Saturday evening Luke’s stomach is a mess of nerves. He’s been dashing around his parent’s house for the guts of two hours, tidying it and rearranging the cushions on the sofa at least twelve times. He asks his mom not to bring out the baby photos and begs his dad not to do the “respect my son” talk. He only has to worry about one brother embarrassing him because Ben is still in New York, but Jack is sitting on the sofa, messing up Luke’s cushions and smiling like this is the best day of his life. Luke’s too frazzled to care, wondering if he should have cleaned up his room as well, but deciding against it.

“He must be something special if Luke Hemmings is actually cleaning,” Jack says, munching on a handful of chips and getting crumbs on Luke’s vacuumed floor. Luke stares at them with a set jaw, refusing to give into his brother’s taunts. He knows that Jack is probably going to recognise Michael when he sees him, and if his dad finds out that Michael works in a circus he’s not going to be too pleased, but he’s just hoping they can make it through dinner before any of that is brought up and Luke can kiss Michael goodbye on the front porch like in all those love stories.

“D’you not have an actual home to go to? With a wife and a child?” Luke asks, resisting the urge to fix the pillows after jack stands up and stretches.

“And miss one of mom’s dinners _and_ the chance to meet my brother’s new lover?” Jack gasps, and holds his hand over his heart. “Never.” As he walks past he ruffles the quiff Luke spent at least fifteen minutes on, winking over his shoulder as he walks to join their dad outside.

Luke’s leaning against the counter watching his mother stir the gravy when his phones beeps from his pocket. The message is from Michael, saying that he’s left and should be at Luke’s in about ten minutes. Luke had offered to pick Michael up in his brothers car, or even walk him to the house, but Michael declined, saying he would be fine, so Luke just texted him the directions.

“Is that him?” Liz asks, sprinkling herbs into one of the saucepans and stirring again. Luke nods, sliding his phone back into his pocket and biting on his lip, messing with the black metal circling it. He’s trying not to let his nerves show, but he should have known that his mom would notice. She notices everything. “Don’t be nervous, baby. I’ve warned Jack to be on his best behaviour.” Luke’s about to answer that Jack doesn’t _have_ a best behaviour when there’s a knock resounding throughout the kitchen and he feels as if all his organs fall to his feet.

He stands, just staring straight ahead for a moment until Liz gently nudges his arm. “Are you going to get that, or will I?” He doesn’t answer, just walks to the front door and almost rips it off the hinges in an attempt to get it open.

Michael is standing on the other side in one of his black button downs, collar open just enough that his pendant is peeking through, clutching a bunch of flowers in one hand and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s resting in the crook of his arms. He’s got an awkward little smile on his face and Luke almost gawks when he sees that Michael’s hair is actually styled and not just left in it’s controlled mess. “I didn’t know what to bring and the guy in the liquor store said everyone likes Jack Daniel’s.”

Luke laughs, quiet and fond, as he looks at Michael. He looks so out of his element that it’s adorable. “Hello to you too. You didn’t have to bring anything. Your fine self would have been enough.”

The whiskey and flowers were a good call, Luke has to admit. Liz gushed about them for a solid five minutes before arranging them in a vase and putting them on the windowsill. Andy’s eyes were staring at the piercing and the feather in Michael’s hair, but as soon as the  bottle of whiskey was handed over, Andy clapped Michael on the back, pouring everyone a drink and saying how Michael was already in his good books. Michael smiled, politely declining his drink when Andy slid it over to him, explaining he didn’t drink. Luke just poured Michael’s whiskey into his own glass. He needs all the liquid confidence he can get.

Jack was polite when he met Michael for the first time (well, second), but Luke could actually see the spark of recognition lighting in his eyes, and since then he’s been staring at Michael with his eyes squinted and head cocked to the side like he’s trying to place where he may have met him before.

Luke’s knuckles are white from where he’s gripping the seat, waiting on the one question that could ruin the mood, the one about college or work. Michael looks no better – his normally pale face is even paler, and his lips are bitten raw. Luke feels bad for asking Michael to do this, can see how uncomfortable he is. He rubs Michael’s thigh gently under the table and can almost feel some of the tension leave Michael’s shoulders as he moves his chair a little closer to Luke’s.

They make it through the main course and dessert before it comes up. Luke is stirring his cappuccino, watching the foam swirl at the top when his dad asks, “So, Michael, did you and Luke meet at college?” Michael stills beside him, his coffee sitting untouched before him as his searches for words to say.

“Uhm, no, actually-” Michael starts, but Luke interjects.

“Michael isn’t at college, dad.”

“Oh, so you’re working?”

Michael nods, turning to Luke and silently pleading for help. “That’s where we met,” Luke says, taking a sip of his drink. “At Michael’s job, I mean. He, uhm, he works at the circus.”

A silence settles around the room, and Michael looks like he wants to bolt, like Luke’s hand on his thigh is the only thing keeping him stationary. It’s Jack that breaks the silence, throwing his head back and laughing. “I fucking knew I saw you somewhere! Man, it was driving me insane!” Jack’s smiling between the two of them, but Liz and Andy look sceptical, glancing at each other before looking at Luke again.

“That’s interesting,” Liz says sweetly, shoving the plate of cookies towards Michael and smiling at him. Luke knows there is so much she wants to say, but is thankful she doesn’t. “I bet it’s real exciting, travelling everywhere and meeting new people all the time.”

“Uhm, it’s fine, I guess,” Michael answers, lip blooming red after he releases it from his teeth. “After a while it gets a little tiring, but my mom and dad work there too so it’s not too bad.”

The conversation picks up again after that, Liz telling Michael embarrassing baby stories and Jack telling embarrassing drunk stories. And as much as Luke whines and complains about them, he doesn’t mind because with each story, Michael laughs, has tears of happiness streaming down his face by the time he has to leave.

Luke gets to kiss him goodbye on the front porch, pulling him tight against him and kissing him slow and deep. It leaves him breathless and dizzy, but Michael fares no better, stumbling a little down the steps before turning and blowing a kiss in Luke’s direction.

When Luke’s in the kitchen doing the dishes, his mother comes in and sits at the kitchen table, watching solemnly as Luke sets some of the plates on the rack to drip dry. He doesn’t like the look on her face, it’s too serious, but he guesses he should have seen this coming. He drops the dishcloth on the countertop before taking the seat adjacent to her and crossing his ankles, feeling like he’s about to be told off. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” is all she says, looking at Luke like he’s fragile and about to break.

“What do you mean?”

She sighs, reaching a hand across the table for Luke’s. “He’s a sweet boy. Really sweet, and I’m glad you found someone like him. I know he’d treat you right – the way he looks at you, and you at him, my God. But you know about that circus, Luke. It’s leaving.” She rubs the back of his hand before standing up, kissing his head before walking into the sitting room. Through the closed door, Luke can hear the frantic whispers between her and his father, and wishes it didn’t make his stomach feel so weird.

When Luke is in his own bed that night, staring up into the darkness, he can’t help but think of the tarot card. “The Lovers”, that _literally_ has Michael’s name on it. He groans, before rolling over and shoving his face into the pillow.

*~*

Luke pushes open Michael’s door, balancing pizza boxes in one hand and a four pack of Coke in his other. “I come bearing gifts!” he announces, smiling when he sees Michael practically jump off the bed at the sight of the pizza boxes. Michael’s hair is mussed up, so Luke knows he’s just woke up from a nap. “You have the life of it, you know that? Sleeping all day and then getting delicious, greasy foods hand delivered.”

“Helps that the delivery guy is hot as fuck, too,” Michael smirks, taking the cokes from Luke and placing them at the foot of the bed. Luke puts the pizza beside them, turning to wrap his arms around Michael’s waist and kissing his nose.

“Miss me?” he asks, his mouth trailing from Michael’s nose to the soft skin under his ear. Michael shivers, and Luke smiles before nipping lightly at it with his teeth.

“Hardly. And the pizzas getting cold.” Michael wiggles out of Luke’s grip, but before he gets too far Luke gives him a pat on the ass. “Not yet, Lucas,” Michael says, winking over his shoulder and dropping onto the mattress, patting the space beside him for Luke to sit. He pulls one of the pizza boxes towards him, moaning when he opens it and sees the pizza. “I knew there was a reason I keep you around.”  

“Are you dead?” Luke asks forty minutes later when they’re both sprawled out on Michael’s bed, too full to move. He pokes Michael in the stomach, who groans and rolls away.

“I’m in a food coma, leave me be.” Luke laughs, gathering the empty boxes and cans and putting them on the floor so that he can scooch up behind Michael, throwing an arm around his middle and kissing the back of his neck, feeling the hairs there tickle his nose.

Michael turns in Luke’s arms so they’re face to face, and he’s got such a content smile on his face that Luke wishes he had a camera to capture how beautiful he looks. “Hi,” Luke whispers, bumping their noses and smiling when Michael’s scrunches up.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Yesterday went really well,” Luke says, referring to the family dinner. Michael’s eyes instantly darken and there’s red creeping onto his cheeks.

“They probably think I’m some kind of bumbling moron. I mean, it’s easy going out there every night and talking to hundreds of strangers, but man, that was brutal. I just kept thinking if I fuck up they’re gonna hate me, and then I spent so much brain power worrying that I fucked up anyway.” Luke pecks his lips softly, and Michael sighs, moving in closer.

“You didn’t fuck up. They really liked you, and dad thinks you’re some kind of angel, bringing him whiskey.”

Michael laughs, and Luke can feel it in his own chest. “You’re not just saying that?” he asks, hands sliding under Luke’s shirt and tracing nonsensical patterns on the soft skin of Luke’s back.

“Nope.” Luke moves his head back when he feels Michael starting to suck on his neck, moving his hands down to Michael’s ass and moving them so that Michael is lying on top. “You like doing that way too much.”

Michael pulls his face from Luke’s neck, and Luke instantly misses the feeling of it. “Want me to stop?”

Luke shakes his head. “Never.” Michael smirks before kissing Luke’s neck again, pulling at the neckline of Luke’s shirt to get at his collarbones.

With Michael’s tongue gliding across his skin, his mouth sucking bruises onto his taut skin, it isn’t long before Luke can feel the familiar stirring in his stomach. He tries to push Michael off, because the most they’ve ever done is heavily make out and he isn’t sure how far Michael is willing to go.

But then Michael is pushing down against his thigh, and even through his skinny jeans Luke can feel how hard Michael’s cock is. He screws his eyes shut and tries to even out his breathing, which is hard to do with Michael still sucking on his neck and he can feel his own erection pressing against his jeans. “Michael,” he says, pushing at Michael’s shoulder so that Michael will look at him.

Michael’s face is red, but not from embarrassment, and his eyes are black, a tiny ring of emerald green around the edge. His lips are red and kiss swollen, and Luke doesn’t think he’s going to be able to last very long. “Are you sure?” he asks, because this is something neither of them can undo.

Michael covers Luke’s lips with his own, tongue running across the seam until Luke finally parts them, giving Michael all the access he wants. He can help but move his hips against Michael, small gyrations that don’t do anything other than make him harder and more desperate.

“Let’s get these pants off, then,” Michael says, kneeling up a little bit so that he’s no longer laying on top of Luke. His body instantly misses the warmth, but when he sees Michael’s fingers going for his own button something flares in his stomach that heats him up again. He can only sit and stare as Michael’s fingers make quick work of the zipper, leaving his jeans open as he starts on Luke’s. Luke lies pliant underneath him, not sure if he can move, and lets Michael take care of him, feels the cold air brushing his legs as Michael yanks his jeans off.

“You, too,” Luke finally manages to say, hooking his fingers in the waistband on Michael’s jeans and boxers, tugging them down to his mid-thigh. Michael hisses when his cock springs free, hitting against the bottom of his t-shirt and leaving a wet spot. Luke can’t help but think Michael has a pretty cock, well, as far as cocks go. It’s as pink as his lips, and thicker than his own. He can’t help but sit up, Michael still hovering over his lap, and get his hand around it. Michael groans, ducking his head down against Luke’s shoulder and breathing heavy.

“You good?” Luke asks as he starts moving his hand slowly, not enough to get Michael off but enough to tease. Michael whimpers, moving his hips a little to get more friction, but Luke isn’t giving it to him. He looks beautiful like this, flushed and needy, and Luke wants to look at it for as long as possible.

Michael’s fingers are dancing lightly along the waistband of Luke’s boxers, so Luke places one hand on the bed for leverage and lifts his hips up so Michael can slide his boxers down. They don’t get too far, the angle too awkward for either boy to pull them off fully, but they no longer cover Luke’s cock, so that’s fine with him.

He shudders when Michael rubs his thumb over the slit, squeezes the head softly. A bead of precome falls from the tip and Luke swears when Michael spreads it over his shaft, moaning when Michael’s hand starts stroking him firm and sure.

Michael’s lips are on his again. Luke can taste the sweat on them as Michael starts moving his hips faster. Luke can’t thrust up into Michael’s fist – Michael’s weight on his thighs keeping him where he is – but he doesn’t need to. It’s like Michael read a book on exactly what to do to make Luke come, pressing his thumb against the underside when he strokes, sometimes going lower to rub at his balls.

“Been thinking about this,” Michael pants into Luke’s ear. His voice is so raw and fucked out that Luke moans, can actually feel Michael’s smirk. “Been thinking about what it would be like to have my hand on you. _Fuck_ , have you touching me. Came thinking about it just last night.”

Luke screws his eyes shut, stomach tightening as he nears his orgasm. He knows Michael is getting close too, his hips are moving more frantically and the hold he has on Luke’s cock is sloppier but still so good.

“Thought about what you’d sound like, too. But I bet nothing even comes close the real thing. You’re so loud, can’t wait to hear you when you come. You gonna come for me, Luke?”

It hits him like a train, and before he can even fully comprehend what’s happening, he’s coming between them, painting Michael’s thighs white and shaking with the force of it. Michael is still moaning in front of him, but Luke’s too out of it to be much help so he just rests his head against Michael’s shoulder, tightens his fist and lets Michael fuck it.

Not long after, Michael is stilling, a shout of Luke’s name falling from his lips as he empties into his fist.

“Holy fuck,” Michael says, breathing heavily. Luke just nods, but it says everything he needs it to.

He doesn’t go home even though he has college the following day. He cleans himself up with the t-shirt Michael gives him and climbs into the bed behind Michael, tangling their legs together under the sheets and falling asleep with Michael’s head on his chest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the usual - come say hello to me on tumblr @ t1mburton because I love talking to you guys :)


	4. 'I Love You' Was Too Many Words To Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, I know it's been over a month and I'm so sorry. Basically I started back at college and that's gross as hell. And then I started writing a Malum oneshot that has somehow turned into a 12k fic so far and I kinda just went with that for a while. And Idk, I'm so particular about this fic cause I spent ages planning it out so I want to make sure it's okay and all that. Basically I suck and I'm a procrastinating ass but like... yeah.  
> Also, there's a lotta smut in this one. Writing smut is not my forte but I'm trying.  
> Title from 'The Circus' by Take That.  
> (ALSO HAS ANYONE ELSE BEEN LIKE... WALLOPED IN THE CHEST BY SGFG??? LIKE WHERE DID THAT ALBUM COME FROM I WANT TO CRY????? ANYway enjoy my attempt at writing.)

“There’s no point in me even asking if you want to come see a movie with me and Ashton is there?” Calum asks with a slight smile as he starts putting his notebooks into his backpack and fixing his snapback. Luke just shakes his head, locking his phone before sliding it into his pocket and walking out of the rows of seats, heading for the door.

“Sorry, Cal,” Luke says, pushing open the heavy wooden doors. “I already have plans.” Plans that aren’t necessarily set in stone, but have become somewhat of a Friday night routine nonetheless. He knows that by the time he makes it to Michael’s, he’ll be waiting with The Office on his laptop. Then Michael will go do his shows, and now, more often than not, Luke will go to watch. He loves going to watch Michael perform, is enchanted by his stage presence, the confidence he exudes, gets butterflies at the sly little smirks and cheeky winks Michael sends in his direction. And afterwards they go back to Michael’s trailer, cuddle, order takeout and fall asleep in each other’s arms, post orgasm bliss and full stomachs making them incapable of doing much else. He doesn’t want to give that up, not even for one night.

“It’s fine. But if this mystery man is going to keep you away all the time, I at least want to know his name.” Luke rolls his eyes, pulling the beanie from the side pocket of his bag. He smiles when he sees he grabbed Michael’s black one instead of his own but jamming it on his head anyway. The bus stop is still full, so he hasn’t missed his bus and he can’t see it coming down the road, so he doesn’t have to sprint to the stop like a madman, can stroll leisurely beside Calum. “Well?” Calum pushes, waggling his eyebrows at Luke.

Luke fixes his bag on his shoulder before saying “His name’s Michael.”

“How serious is it?” Calum asks.

“I don’t know,” Luke replies. And he doesn’t, he’s not even sure where they stand with labels or anything. The question makes his stomach churn in the most uncomfortable way, and all he can think of is the day in the near future when Michael will inevitably leave and Luke can’t do anything but watch him go. But he doesn’t know how to say all this to Calum, knows that Calum’s reaction will be along the same lines as his parents was, but Calum’s not afraid  to yell and try and knock some sense into him. So Luke just says “He had dinner at mine last Saturday. Mom and Dad seem to like him.”

He wishes it were that simple, that all they needed to be completely happy was their parent’s approval. It hurts a little more because now he _knows_ that his parents approve of Michael. He hasn’t met Michael’s parents yet, just caught glances of his dad when he’s at the show. And he only knows that the magician is Michael’s father because of the first time he went to the circus, when he went out behind the tent and heard the older man call Michael ‘son’. He doesn’t even have a clue what Michael’s mother looks like.

Michael never really talks about his own parents, only ever saying ‘dad needs me for rehearsal’ or ‘mom gave out to me for a solid twenty minutes when she saw all the takeout packages in the trash’. And Luke is only certain that they work in the circus because of what Michael said at dinner. He shakes the thoughts out of his head though, knowing that if his own mother hadn’t of cottoned on to the fact Luke was seeing someone then Michael wouldn’t have met his parents either.

He’s pulled out of his stupor when Calum shakes his arm. “Are you even listening?”

“What? Sorry, I’m just...”

“Thinking ‘bout lover boy?” Calum asks, with a smirk on his lips and an evil glint in his eyes. “It’s fine. But if momma Hemmings has deemed someone good enough for her baby boy, then I definitely need to meet him because I honestly never thought that would happen.”

Luke doesn’t answer, just busies himself with getting his bus pass out of his bag.

*~*

Luke waves as he walks past Mary in the ticket booth, and walks straight to Michael’s trailer. He doesn’t even need to look where he’s going anymore, could probably find his way blindfolded, his feet knowing exactly where to take him.

When he gets to Michael’s trailer, however, the lights are off and the door is shut tight. Luke checks the time on his phone and sees it’s just after nine. Michael’s shows finished about an hour ago, and he hasn’t text Luke to say that he wouldn’t be there for their usual night in. Luke kind of stands there for a few moments, swinging around in a circle to see if he can spot Michael anywhere. After five minutes pass, Luke gives up and sends Michael a text, asking where he is and if he wants Luke to call back later.

Not a second after, there’s a reply from Michael, saying that he got called into an impromptu rehearsal with his dad, and is over in the main tent if Luke wants to join them. Luke takes a minute to consider – on one hand he doesn’t want to infringe on Michael’s work schedule and upset his dad, but on the other he wants to be with Michael like, an hour ago, so he just pulls his denim jacket tighter against himself and heads in the direction of the big top.

The lights are on when Luke enters the tent, and as soon as he passes through the material flaps, he can hear Michael and whoever else is rehearsing, who must be his father, shouting at each other. Luke can’t really make out anything they’re saying – he’s still a little too far away – but as soon as he exits the small hallway and can see the ring, he spots Michael, arms flapping wildly and face a little pink. Luke feels like he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t be, and stands watching Michael and his dad argue for another few seconds before he decides to leave and text Michael to let him know he’s outside, give him a chance to collect himself before he has to see Luke.

He’s about to walk out of the tent when a shout of “Luke! Hey!” stops him in his tracks, and he paints a smile on his face before turning to face the source of the noise. His smile becomes a little more genuine when he sees the look on Michael’s face as he jogs towards him, skin tight black jeans accentuating his hips, and the top few buttons of his shirt open, showing a vast expanse of pale chest. Michael throws himself at Luke who’s unprepared for the sudden extra weight, and he almost loses his balance but manages to keep himself upright. Michael’s arms are tight around his waist, his face nuzzling against his chest, and for a second Luke forgets about the other figure in the tent watching them intently as his hand absentmindedly rises to card through Michael’s hair.

“Sorry I didn’t text you earlier,” Michael says, voice muffled against the fabric of Luke’s shirt. “Dad went nuts after the show, told me to get something to eat and come straight back to go over our routine. I mean, we’ve been doing the same thing for about ten years, don’t know how he thinks I could forget it.”

“Because recently, you _have_ been forgetting it,” someone says. Michael stills in Luke’s arms, and Luke can actually feel the anger radiating from him. It’s weird, because Michael has only ever been calm around him, those few instances when he was upset and those times they playfully argue aside, and Luke notices the shift in demeanour like he’d notice a punch in the stomach.

Michael doesn’t pull away from Luke, instead mutters “Well, if we did something different for once, then maybe I’d have more reason to try and remember it.” Luke wants to leave, because he obviously doesn’t belong here, shouldn’t be witnessing this conversation. He can’t take his eyes from the top of Michael’s head where it’s sticking out under his chin, black fluff ticking the sensitive skin there, but his arms have dropped away from Michael’s waist. He feels awkward, can feel Michael’s dad’s eyes locked on the two of them, but Luke can’t lift his eyes to look back.

“Or maybe you’ve been too distracted.” At this, Michael moves from holding Luke, and Luke automatically misses the extra support because he feels like his limbs are about to give way and let him fall to the floor. Michael’s jaw is set, and Luke can see the vein in the side of his neck sticking out.

“Dad,” Michael says, his voice clipped, as he runs his hand down Luke’s arm to lace their fingers together. Luke squeezes back so tight he’s afraid he’s going to cut off the blood going to Michael’s hand, but he can’t loosen his grip. He feels guilty, after what Michael’s dad said about Michael being distracted. He didn’t realise he was getting the other boy into trouble with his parents. “This is Luke,” Michael finishes. And it’s like he’s daring his dad to say something, anything at all to make Luke feel even worse.

“Ah, I see. The famous Luke.”

Luke holds out the hand that’s not gripping Michael’s towards his dad, trying to keep it from shaking as he says “Nice to meet you.”

Michael’s dad nods and shakes Luke’s hand, looking unimpressed. From the corner of his eye, Luke can see a figure entering the tent through the back, yoga pants and loose shirt contrasting with the fancy outfits Michael and his dad are still wearing. “What are you two still doing in here?” the woman asks, walking towards the three still huddled by the main entrance to the ring. “We finished an hour and a half ago. Daryl, I was waiting for you to come back so we could go out for dinner. Oh,” she says, stopping when her eyes land on Luke, her gaze moving down to where their hands are still clasped, white from how hard they’re holding on to each other. “Hello.”

“Sweetie,” Michael’s dad – Daryl - says. “This is Luke.”

Luke’s not sure why they make him feel like he’s in kindergarten and about to get told off. Michael’s parents stand directly opposite him and Michael, and Daryl has his arms crossed against his chest, eyes boring into Michael’s. Michael’s stance is just as defensive, and Luke is a little nervous, wants to bolt and come back when they’ve all calmed down. Michael looks ready to tear someone apart.

 Michael’s mom smiles, says “Nice to meet you, Luke,” before turning to Daryl and putting a hand on his elbow.

Michael looks from his mother to Luke, and then back at his mother again.“Right, well, Luke and I are gonna,...”

“No,” Daryl interrupts. “I told you we were going to rehearse until you got it right. You haven’t gotten it right yet.”

Michael huffs out a breath. “We’ve been doing this all night, I need a break.” Luke can feel Michael’s nails biting into his skin, and shuffles his feet under the glare of Michael’s dad and the sympathetic eyes of his mother.

“Luke, honey, can you give us a minute to talk to Michael?” his mother asks, and Luke could kiss her. He feels bad for wanting to get away and leave Michael there by himself, but Luke is the most awkward person ever, and he’s sure Michael is capable of handling his own parents by himself.

“Uhm, yeah, of course, I’ll just..” he mutters, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb and pulling his hand from Michael’s grip. His hand tingles as the blood rushes back to it, and he starts to back away, trying to ignore the way Michael’s eyes seem to be pleading him to stay and Daryl is looking at him like he can’t leave fast enough.

“I’m walking him out,” Michael says, not asking if he can but telling his parents that he is, and they don’t fight him on it. When they’re out of the tent, Luke takes a gulp of fresh air, feeling a little light headed. He feels Michael sliding something into his pocket, and the jingling gives it away as keys. “I shouldn’t be too long. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, but I’d feel a little better if I got to see your face after I get my ass handed to me.”

“Michael..” Luke starts but isn’t too sure how to finish. Instead, he just presses a soft kiss against Michael’s lips and squeezes his shoulder. Michael allows himself to melt into the touch for a couple of seconds before he’s shaking his head and turning back towards the tent.

Luke stares as the dark entryway seems to swallow Michael whole, and then turns himself, walking in the direction of Michael’s trailer.

*~*

He’s not sure why he’s so nervous. They’re Michael’s _parents_ , for god’s sake, but Luke’s stomach has been in knots since he unlocked the door to Michael’s room nearly an hour ago. It feels like it’s been much longer, the minutes melting together in a chunk of time that never ends. He digs through some of the college work that he has piled beside Michael’s bed, pulling out an article he has to have read for one of his classes next week but after five minutes of staring at the page and taking nothing in, he decides it’s useless and pulls Michael’s Nintendo from where he has it stored under his pillow.

He’s too busy thinking about Michael to really pay attention to the game, Mario getting killed because of poorly judged jumps and hitting the wrong buttons, but it’s enough of a distraction that the time moves a little faster. It still feels like trudging through molasses, but now it’s only knee deep as opposed to the neck high sludge he was trailing through.

He’s managed to pass a couple of levels by the time he hears Michael’s heavy boots crunching over the small stones and fallen leaves before the door bursts open and Michael enters the room, cheeks red and hair mussed. He turns to slam the door shut, and with his back still to Luke, he rests an arm against the wall and shoves his face into the crook of his elbow. Luke snaps the Nintendo shut, and with the jingly music ending so abruptly, he can hear how heavy Michael’s breathing is. He remains frozen on the edge of the bed, afraid to move, just staring at Michael’s back as it heaves with how hard he’s breathing.

Luke doesn’t know what to say, so sits motionless and quiet, let’s Michael calm down a bit. But he doesn’t seem to, instead lets out a loud “Fuck!” and thumps the wall with his other hand, cursing again at the pain that shoots through his wrist. “God fucking dammit!”

Luke takes this as his queue to stand up, takes three long strides across the room and wrapping his arms around Michael’s waist and pulling him away from the wall. “Mikey, hey,” Luke says, burying his face in the back of Michael’s neck. “It’s okay, c’mon baby, breathe.”

Michael slumps against Luke’s chest, and Luke just about manages to hold the both of them up. “I’m sorry for how they spoke to you. That was just.. They shouldn’t have talked to you like that! You didn’t _do_ anything!” Michael covers his face with his hands, nails digging into the skin above his eyebrows. “They were such fucking _assholes_!”

“Hey,” Luke soothes, spinning Michael so they’re chest against chest. He just hopes Michael can’t feel how hard his heart is hammering against his rib cage. “You don’t have to apologise. It’s not your fault that went down the way it did. Please don’t worry about it.” Luke rocks Michael side to side and kisses the top of his head, Michael’s face still covered with his trembling hands, the knuckles of his right hand an angry red colour from where he hit the wall. Luke moves his head back so he can kiss the raw skin on Michael’s knuckles, kissing it again when Michael’s breath hitches and then evens out. He reaches up and grabs Michael’s wrists, pulling Michael’s hands from his face. He’s flushed and his bottom lip is bitten raw, and when their eyes lock, Luke feels as if he’s been winded. Michael’s eyes are wide and glassy, open and filled with more emotion than Luke thought was even possible.

“Luke,” Michael breathes out, warm air ghosting against Luke’s lips. Neither of them move, Michael’s wrists still in Luke’s firm grasp, eyes locked on the blond’s mouth as his tongue darts out to moisten his bottom lip. And then it’s like a switch has been flipped, and the atmosphere becomes electric as Michael surges forward and captures Luke’s lips with his own.

“Luke,” he says again as their bodies press closer together. Michael is kissing him with such intent Luke can hardly keep up, barely opening his mouth before Michael is licking into it, tongue warm and hot against his own. Michael’s hands free from Luke’s hold, and he moves them to slide through Luke’s hair before gripping it tightly, enabling Luke from moving away, even though that’s the last thing Luke wants. “They drive me fucking insane. Telling me what to do all the time, telling me who I can talk to and who I can’t. Trying to keep me here all the time, like I’m still a damned child. Fuck that,” Michael says, his mouth still pressed against Luke’s. It’s muffled, but Luke still manages to make out every word so shakes his head, kisses Michael’s lips hard again.  

He moves his arms to wrap around the small of Michael’s back and pulls him close. “Don’t think about it. They’re not here, babe, I’m here. Think about us,” Luke says as he moves to nibble at the soft skin under Michael’s ear. “Think about me.” Michael practically mewls, throws his head back so that Luke has more room to suck bruises. Luke moves his hands from Michael’s waist to go up underneath his dress-shirt, rubbing the soft skin about the waistband of his jeans, scratching a little with his nails.

The grip Michael has in his hair tightens, manoeuvring Luke’s mouth back to his own. “Fuck, Luke,” he says. When Luke moves them backwards so Michael is pressed up against the wall, Luke’s body flush against the front of his own. Luke smirks when he feels the outline of Michael’s erection bumping against his thigh, and so presses back against it, giggling at the _thunk_ Michael’s head makes when he throws it back against the wall.

“Feel good?” Luke asks when Michael grinds down against him, his jeans far too restricting. He doesn’t answer, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth hanging open as Luke pushes against him even more.

“Luke,” Michael pants, voice raspy and needy from only a few minutes of teasing. “Luke, please.”

“What do you want?” Luke asks, leaving wet kisses across Michael’s collarbones. “Anything you want.”

Michael’s hands are turning white from the hard grip he has on the back of Luke’s shirt, the fabric bunching between his fingers and uncovering the small of Luke’s back. “I want you. Need you.”

Luke nibbles at the pale skin of Michael’s chest, nudging his head back into the crook of Michael’s neck. “You wanna fuck me?”

The words are out before he has a chance to stop them, but he doesn’t regret them. There’s nothing more he wants than for Michael to do that, to agree and go all the way with him. Michael keens against him, and Luke has to hold him up against the wall. He would laugh at the look on Michael’s face if the circumstances were different, if he was completely sure he didn’t look the same way. “You can’t say shit like that,” Michael groans, his eyes meeting Luke’s.

“I mean it.” And he does, he means it so much he can barely think about anything else. “I need you too, Michael.”

Michael shakes his head, hair fanned out at odd angles from where it’s pressed against the wall behind him. “I want to. God, I want to but...”

Luke kisses his lips, softly pressing them together. He doesn’t like the sound of that ‘but’. “But what?”

Michael looks sheepish, almost innocent if it weren’t for the bulge in his pants and the marks on his neck. “I don’t have anything. I’ve lube, but that’s it. I don’t have condoms.” His eyes fall from Luke’s, staring at his clothed chest, blush rising in his cheeks.

Luke considers leaving and going to buy some, would do it if Michael wanted, but then thinks of the results he got in the mail not too long ago. The standard test he does every so often. “I’m clean,” he says, holding Michael’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head so their eyes meet. It takes Michael a few seconds, but Luke can practically see the comprehension dawning in his eyes, his mouth opening a little bit as he gasps. “I mean, the option’s there, but we don’t have to do this tonight. I totally understand if you want to wait.”

Michael shakes his head. “No, no, it’s not that. I trust you.” Those words knock the breath out of Luke, and suddenly all the space between the two of them feels universes apart. Luke closes the distance between them and presses his mouth against Michael’s, hands grabbing at his hips and bringing their crotches together.

“Me too,” Michael says when their mouths separate. “I’m clean, I mean. I’ve never been with anyone like that, so I’m clean.”

Luke stalls his movements, suddenly feeling a little anxious. “Mikey,” he says, because he can’t think of anything else to say. Michael’s words replay loudly in his head, almost physically knocking against his skull. “We really don’t have to do anything, we can wait until you’re ready.”

Michael rolls his eyes, puts his hands over Luke’s that are still resting on his waist. “Don’t look at me like that; I’m not a fragile little virgin. I was just never with someone long enough to go that far.” He leans forward to kiss Luke again. “If you’re up for it, then so am I.”

Something in Luke relaxes then, and he nods, kissing Michael with intent this time and starting to walk backwards to the bed, using the grip he has on Michael’s waist to pull him along. When the backs of his knees hit the soft mattress, he falls backwards, Michael landing on top of him with a small ‘oof’.

Michael looks amazing on top of him, black hair falling into his face and eyes blown, green swallowed by black. “You have to be sure you want to do this,” Luke insists, hands rubbing up Michael’s sides, bunching the black fabric of his shirt.

Michael chuckles. “You’re the one who’s about to get fucked, I should be asking you that.”

“Michael..”

Michael leans down to kiss him again. “I’m sure. I’ve never been more okay with anything in my whole entire life. Please don’t think for one second that I don’t want to do this with you, because I do.” Michael’s eyes are wide and honest, so Luke nods.

“Where’s your lube?” Michael pecks him on the lips before climbing off and walking over to his drawers, rummaging through the bottom one until he pulls out a bottle of clear liquid. He chucks it onto the bed beside Luke before fumbling with his belt and the button on his jeans, kicking off his shoes and his jeans shortly after. Luke does the same, wriggling out of his jeans and boxers at the same time and wincing a little when his cock is free, the cold air too much a not enough all at once.

“Fuck, Luke,” he hears Michael whimper, and can’t help but wrap his hand around his own cock, squeezing to give himself a little relief.

“I thought that’s where this was going?” He asks, and isn’t too surprised when he gets a pillow in the face.

He opens his eyes to see Michael kneeling over him, small smile on his lips. “You’re a massive dork, do you know that?”

“Uh huh,” he says, hand still moving on his cock. “Hurry up and get in me.” Michael nods frantically, his hands sliding up and down Luke’s sides, Luke’s hand bumping against Michael’s stomach every time he tugs his cock.

Michael kisses him again, and Luke is too caught up in the feeling of Michael’s mouth on his own, his hand moving up and down his cock, that he doesn’t notice Michael fiddling with the bottle of lube until there’s a wet finger rubbing against his hole, firm but gentle at the same time and Luke can’t help but buck his hips, desperate for everything all at once.

Michael slides his finger in slow and deliberate, and Luke swears he sees stars dancing in front of his vision when Michael is in to the last knuckle and pulling his finger back out again. Luke’s squirming, trying to push himself back on Michael’s hand, but Michael keeps his slow rhythm, adding a second finger and using his other hand to rub Luke’s thigh.

“Thought you’ve never done this before?” Luke asks through clenched teeth as Michael’s fingers brush against his prostate, and the grip Michael has on his thigh is the only thing keeping him from moving back towards him and making him go deeper, faster , _anything_.

“Not to anyone else but myself,” Michael says, pushing in the last finger and Luke’s reply is cut off with the moan that rips from his chest, the extra burn making his eyes water.

“Mikey,” he breathes out, stomach flipping at the idea of Michael doing this to himself. He lifts his head off the bed and willing his lungs to keep working as he tries to get Michael’s attention. “Michael, that’s good, you gotta stop otherwise I’m gonna come.”

Michael smirks. “Would be kinda hot, you coming on just my fingers.”

Luke drops back against the bed, whimpering at the feeling of Michael’s fingers still working inside him, the slight movement of the mattress as Michael wiggles out of his boxers. “We can do that another time, just please, fuck me.”

Michael seems to hear the desperation in Luke’s voice because he pulls his fingers out, squeezes more lube onto them before slicking up his cock. Luke holds his hands out for Michael, motions for him to move closer, and Michael does, hand still moving on himself as he leans forward to press a soft kiss to Luke’s lips. Luke positions his thighs so they’re resting on top of Michael’s, and takes a moment to take in Michael’s face, the sheen of sweat almost making him glow, his kiss swollen lips and messed hair. He’s so beautiful it makes something in Luke’s chest ache.

He can feel the head of Michael’s cock at his entrance, but Michael doesn’t push forward. Luke’s eyes meet his, and he can see doubt dancing behind the lust. “Michael,” Luke says. “It’s okay.”

He can hear Michael swallow, watches as Michael nods. “Yeah, it’s just, are _you_ sure? With no condom?” Luke grabs the front of Michael’s shirt and pulls him down, the odd button pressing against Luke’s skin. Luke doesn’t answer, uses a kiss to let Michael know how sure he is, opening his legs a little more to give more space, and then Michael’s at his entrance again. This time, he’s pushing in, shallow little thrusts that take him deeper into Luke.

When he bottoms out, his face is red and he looks like he’s barely holding it together. Luke keeps rubbing Michael’s hips, trying to ground him a little bit so this can last as long as possible. Luke’s never had sex with someone without a condom before, and it feels too good, too _personal_ , and he needs a breather as much as Michael does as he adjusts to the feeling of being full, Michael’s hot pants brushing against his ear. The skin Luke has his hands on is hot and sweaty, so he busies himself with unbuttoning Michael’s shirt and pushing it off his shoulders, the pendant Michael always wears swinging freely between them. Michael whimpers, biting down on the meat of Luke’s shoulder and Luke chuckles. “How does it feel?” He asks, voice cracking at the end when Michael shifts a little bit.

“Really good. Jesus, Luke, it feels.. I can’t even think.”

Luke chuckles, his hands running over the exposed sin of Michael’s back. “Wait ‘til you start moving.”

Michael moves his hips back a little bit, only to slam them back until he’s buried back in Luke again and the both of them gasp, and Luke digs his nails into the soft skin of Michael’s back, wrapping his legs around Michael’s waist and throwing his head back when the new angle allows Michael to hit his prostate every few thrusts.

It’s loud and sweaty, Luke clinging to Michael and Michael sucking at Luke’s neck as his thrusts get more frantic. “You’re doing so good, Mikey, fuck.” Michael moves his mouth from Luke’s shoulder, kissing him and swallowing all the desperate moans and pleads that slip past Luke’s lips, giving back as many as Luke is giving him.

Luke can feel the tightening in his abdomen, his toes curling as he feels his orgasm building. “Mikey, I’m gonna come,” he pants, and Michael’s thrusts get faster and deeper, making Luke’s eyes roll back. There’s a hand on his cock then, Michael pumping him in time with his thrusts until his own body goes rigid, stilling on top of Luke as he reaches his own climax, emptying into Luke and screwing his eyes shut as the pleasure rips through every one of his nerves, makes his body collapse. With his cock still inside, he moves his hand around Luke again and it only takes a few pulls before he’s screaming Michael’s name and coming between them.

“Oh my God,” Michael says, his head resting on Luke’s chest as his body shivers with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

A few hours later, after they’re cleaned up, Luke lays on Michael’s bed and looks out the window, the inky black decorated with tiny silver stars. Michael is heavy and warm on his arm, their legs tangled underneath the sheets.

Luke plays the night over and over in his head – meeting Michael’s parents, the sex. It’s not the way Luke wanted to meet Michael’s mom and dad, to have them hate him straight off the bat - well, his dad at least, but he supposes there’s nothing really he can do about that, so he doesn’t dwell on it too much, instead focussing on the way he and Michael made each other feel.

The sex was the best Luke’s ever had, and if that was Michael’s first time, Luke can’t even think about what it will be like when he’s had a bit of practice. It was angry and passionate, but gentle and loving at the same time, and Luke’s never had someone want to make sure he was enjoying it as much as Michael did, kissing him and touching him the whole time.

He smiles in the darkness, shuffles around a bit so Michael’s weight is more evenly distributed, and buries his nose in Michael’s hair, inhaling the scent of Michael’s fancy shampoo and gel, and something that’s just so _Michael_ that it pulls at something in his chest and makes him feel a little dizzy.

His eyes are slipping shut, and his teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he feels Michael snuggle up closer to him, his hand coming up to rest on Luke’s bare sternum, soft fingertips tracing nonsensical patters just over his heart. “I know you’re asleep,” Michael whispers, and Luke wants to interject, let Michael know he’s wide awake and listening, but Michael is finishing his sentence before Luke can even open his mouth. “Makes it easier to say this, actually. But I just wanted to tell you that you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Luke’s breath stops short, but Michael doesn’t seem to notice, just presses a soft kiss beside the invisible tattoos he drew on Luke’s skin and rests back in Luke’s arms, breathing evening out not too long after as he falls back to sleep.

Luke’s not sure he’ll ever be able to breathe right again.

*~*

The smell of coffee nearly knocks him over when he opens the door to the little coffee shop just off campus, the small bell over the door ringing and making a few of the other students look up from their laptops or phones to see who’s come in. Luke’s eyes scan the cluster of small tables until he spots the familiar mop of curls, raven coloured hair close beside it. He waves at Calum and Ashton to let them know he’s seen them, and then walks to the counter to order his own drink.

“So,” Calum says when Luke takes a seat in front of him. “How’ve you been?” There’s a smirk on his face and Luke moves to fix the collar of his shirt because he can feel Ashton’s eyes trailing across his neck. He knows Calum has filled him in on the fact he’s seeing someone – as much as he knows himself, anyway – and Luke watches as he sits back in his chair and smiles, eyes crinkling up at the sides.

“It looks like he’s doing good,” Ashton laughs, and Luke feels his face heating up. He wants to make some kind of smart remark in reply, but doesn’t trust his voice to stay steady, can’t think of anything witty enough to regain some of the dignity he lost. He picks up his coffee cup and takes a drink from it to hide behind the rim until his face cools down a little. The steam from his drink tickles at his nose as he inhales, the heavy smell of coffee grounding him a little bit.

Calum laughs, his arm snaking around the back of Ashton’s chair. He leans over and kisses his mess of curly hair before stealing some of the brownie from his plate. Ashton watches but doesn’t say anything, just smiles when Calum pops it into his mouth and chews loudly. Luke rolls his eyes at how cute they are.

“Lucas, dear, it’s been far too long since we’ve had a catch up. Talk to me,” Calum says, and Luke laughs, because it’s so _Calum._ Ashton gets comfortable against his boyfriend’s side and Calum finishes off the brownie as they start gossiping about their classmates – Ciara’s botched boob job and Nathan’s panic when he thought he got the girl he hooked up with at some party pregnant. Luke spends his afternoon laughing and sipping good coffee, smiling at the easy way Calum and Ashton bicker like a married couple and kicking them under the table when they get too touchy-feely. He didn’t realise how much time he was spending with Michael and how much he actually missed his best friends until he’s with them again, sinking back into easy conversation even though Luke hasn’t seen them outside of class in nearly two months. He knows Michael would love the banter with these two guys, and they’d both get on amazingly well with Michael – they all have so much in common and Luke feels a little sad knowing that even if they all did meet, they wouldn’t get that much time to hang out because Michael is leaving soon. And just like that, Luke is lost in his own head again, watching Ashton and Calum’s mouths move but not really hearing what they’re saying.

“Speaking of Rachel,” Calum starts, breaking Luke out of his trance. “She’s having a house party on Halloween. Told me to tell you about it, considering you haven’t been in class lately. You’re coming. No excuses. We’re gonna go and get good and drunk and do questionable things and have a wonderful time.” Calum points his spoon at Luke, almost daring him to oppose and ruin Calum’s plan of intoxicated bonding. Last time they got that drunk they ended up skinny dipping in Luke’s neighbour’s pool and scarring poor old Mrs Jones. But Luke doesn’t decline, in fact he’s quite looking forward to it. It’s been too long since he went out and had a good time.

He looks between Calum and Ashton as they bicker and poke at each other, as Ashton wipes at Calum’s mouth with a napkin, and he wants that with Michael. Wants to take him out and show him off and make people feel sick with how cute they are together and how they look after each other. He knows Michael is leaving in just over a month, but he’s going to do this while he can. So he decides he’s going to ask him to go, dress both of them up and get drunk, forget about everything even for a night and let himself go, let himself feel and say everything he wants to. He’s not sure where this ‘fuck it’ attitude came from, but he kind of likes it.

The look of surprise on Calum’s face when Luke asks “D’you think Rachel would mind if I brought someone else along?” makes him laugh, and he spends the next fifteen minute trying to get the other two boys to talk about something other than his date for the party.

*~*

“What are you doing on Halloween?” Luke asks, still trying to catch his breath as Michael wipes at his stomach with an old shirt before throwing it to the floor. He can still hear Guardians of the Galaxy playing on the television in the background, the movie long since forgotten about in.

Michael grabs his Nintendo from his bedside locker before making himself more comfortable in the bed beside Luke, tucking himself under Luke’s arm and flipping open his game. Luke laughs, because even after an orgasm Michael still focuses on his games, tongue poking out between his teeth and eyes zeroed in on the screen. “Nothing, probably. Never do any shows Halloween night, but I could be made work in one of the booths. They do shit like face painting and all that. But if I’m not roped into working I’m gonna spend it the way I spend Halloween every year. Laying in bed eating junk food and watching bad horror movies.”

Luke nods, trailing his fingers up and down Michael’s spine, going lower every time before smacking his ass and receiving a ‘dick!’ in return. “Anyway, I’m asking ‘cause I was wondering if you wanted to go to a house party? A girl in my class is throwing one and my friends Cal and Ash are going, I thought we could tag along.” Michael hums, shutting his Nintendo and moving closer to Luke under the duvet, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Are you sure I’m invited?” Michael asks, and it’s not the flat out rejection that Luke was expecting so he lets himself hope that Michael’s even considering it.

He nods, stilling his hands on Michael’s back and just resting them over the dimples above the swell of his ass. “Of course. Well, not _you_ specifically, but they invited me and I’m extending the invitation to you.” He kisses the top of Michael’s head, heart soaring at the little chuckle Michael emits. “Cal and Ash would love to meet you,” he adds as an afterthought.

“I’ll think about it,” Michael answers with a cheeky little smile. “But I’ve never been to a party before so I’m expecting you to look out for me.”

“I’ll try my best, even though I’ll probably be drunk.” The smile falls off Michael’s face then, and he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing it nervously. “What is it?” Luke asks.

Michael shakes his head, colour blooming back into his lip in a way that’s almost obscene when he lets it fall from his teeth. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I’ve just... I’ve never uh, I’ve never been drunk before. I mean, I’ve had a few drinks and that but there’s not really any point in getting drunk by myself in my own room is there?” He adds a chuckle to the end of his sentence, but Luke can still hear the apprehension he’s trying to hide.

“If you want me to stay sober with you, then I will. I don’t need alcohol to have a good time.” He pushes Michael’s coloured fringe away from his forehead and moves his hand to cup the back of his neck.

Michael smiles, but shakes his head again. “Nah, I want to see what drunk you gets up to. And I kinda want to see what drink me is like, too.”

“Michael, you don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.”

“Alright mom,” Michael says, rolling his eyes but still making it look fond.

“I’m serious, I..”

“Luke, chill. I know I don’t have to do anything. I want to.”

“So you’re coming to the party?”

*~*

Luke tries not to blush too hard when Michael wolf whistles the second Luke enters his room. He mutters a feeble ‘shut up’ in Michael’s direction before throwing himself on Michael’s unmade bed and watches as the other boy puts more black around his eyes and lips. “Captain America was always my favourite superhero. Do you think I’ll get lucky with him tonight?”

Luke doesn’t lift his head from the bed when he answers “I wouldn’t bank on it.” Michael flips him off over his shoulder, paintbrush still clasped in his hand. It’s quiet, soft music playing from Michael’s open laptop and Michael occasionally singing along as he applies the finishing touches to his face paint. “You know, by the time we get there, the party will be over. What is taking you so long?”

“Perfection takes time, dear Luke.” Michael drops the paintbrush then, the clattering noise it makes against the wood of Michael’s cluttered desk rattling throughout the quiet atmosphere of Michael’s room. He spins around, arms open wide as he shouts “Ta dah!”. His face is completely white, eyes and lips black with intricate black designs spreading over his cheekbones, his chin and forehead. It’s the full version of the skull Luke only saw half of the first time they had a proper conversation, and it’s beautiful. There’s something throwing Luke off, though, as he sits on the edge of the bed and just takes in Michael’s face. Michael notices him staring, shuffling his feet and looking awkward, and then Luke puts his finger on it.  Michael’s smiling, but it falls just short if his eyes.  

Luke wants to say something, ask if anything’s wrong, but Michael already looks uncomfortable. So he doesn’t bring it up, instead settles with “Looks good. You’ll be the most beautiful skeleton there.” And Luke means it. Michael is wearing his stage clothes – black button down and tight jeans – but he’s also added a white bow tie and a jacket that nips and tucks in all the right places. Luke’s mouth waters a little as he looks at him, the way the jacket fits his waist, his thighs in the tight jeans. He’s beautiful.

Luke stands from Michael’s bed and walks over to him, hands going straight for his waist and fingers threading through his belt loops. “I mean it. You look amazing. Gonna have to use my super powers to make sure people don’t try anything with you.”

Michael’s eyes fall from Luke’s to his chest, and Luke knows him well enough to realise that under all that paint Michael is blushing. “Stop saying that stuff,” Michael mumbles. “’s weird.”

“What’s weird? Me telling you how beautiful you are?” Luke quirks an eyebrow, enjoying the way Michael gets all flustered and spluttery. It’s endearing as Hell, and all Luke wants to do is lean forward and press his lips against Michael’s, but a hand on his chest is pushing him away.

“D’you think I slaved over this paint for so long so your horny ass could mess it up on me?”

Luke groans, ducks his head to kiss underneath Michael’s ear, loving the way Michael’s breath falters and his hands grasp Luke’s forearms. “We could not go to the party, stay here, make our own fun.” He moves his face so his mouth is directly beside Michael’s ear. “I could think of a few ways we could mess up that make up. Bet it would look pretty smudged over my thighs.”

Michael chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

The small smile is back on his mouth again, and Luke knows something is up. He doesn’t immediately follow Michael when he heads towards the door, instead stands looking at his back and trying to think if a way to ask Michael to talk to him about what’s wrong. But then Michael is stepping out the door and heading in the direction of the exit of the circus, so Luke just follows him. He shoves those thoughts tot the back of head, and follows his boy out the door. If Michael is still upset tomorrow then they’ll definitely talk, but until then he’s going to let the two of them enjoy tonight.

*~*

Luke is worried because Michael is very, very drunk.

It started okay. It was awkward for the first few seconds when Michael finally met Calum and Ashton, and it made Luke feel a little dizzy, like two completely separate worlds colliding. But Ashton made some joke about Luke not having the coordination to be an actual super hero, and Luke pretended to be offended when everyone laughed, and Michael was smiling that happy smile of his, and everything was good.

And then Calum handed Michael a beer, and after having one sip, Michael downed the whole thing. Luke cringed, tried to warn Michael to slow down, that he didn’t want to drink too fast, especially since this his first time getting drunk, but he just shrugged and took another of the beers that Calum handed him, saying thanks before downing that one too. “Mikey,” Luke had started, but Calum cut him off, told him not to be such a downer.

That was two hours ago, and now Luke is standing on the edge of the temporary dance floor, still sipping on his second bottle that has long since gone flat and warm, the taste of it making him gag more than anything. He’s really only holding onto it so that he can hold it up and smile politely when declining drinks. Michael is dancing, if you can call it that. He’s grabbing Calum’s shoulder and swaying side to side, although Luke doesn’t know if that’s intentional or if the alcohol has obliterated his sense of balance. He wants to intervene, take Michael home, but the sadness is gone from his eyes. Luke knows that’s just a result of the liquor store that Michael has drank since they arrived, and he knows he’s going to be in agony in the morning, but the way Michael is smiling and laughing with Calum and dancing with Ashton is worth it.

Luke takes his phone out of his pocket to check the time, and when he looks to the dance floor he can’t see Michael anywhere. Calum and Ashton are still there, heads thrown back in laughter, Calum wiping tears from under his eyes. Luke panics for a minute, eyes flitting wildly around the room searching for messy black hair and worrying when he doesn’t see it. His eyes land back on his two best friends, and he’s a little confused when he sees Calum talking to the floor – or rather, the severely intoxicated boy starfished on the dirty wood.

Luke decides that enough is been enough, and leaves his half full bottle on the table behind him. It takes him longer than expected to push through the mass of drunken sweaty bodies to reach his friends in the middle. Michael squeals when he sees him, grabbing Calum’s ankle and shouting “He came back for me! I told you! I fucking _told you_!” Luke just glares at Calum, who’s laughing and trying to shake Michael’s grip from his ankle.

“Were you just going to leave him there?” Luke asks Ashton, who seems to be the most sober of the three, but is still substantially drunk. He can’t even be mad, laughing when he feels Michael’s fingers trailing up his shin and hooking around his leg. Ashton just hiccups and shakes his head, reaches for Calum, and just like that their conversation is over.

He moves to smile down at Michael, black hair mussed up and face paint smeared. Luke’s a little sad he never thought to take a picture of it beforehand. “You all right down there?” He asks, and Michael nods his head, flashed a blinding smile at Luke. “You wanna stand up?”

“Can’t,” Michael says sombrely. “My legs are gone. I feel funny.”

Luke laughs again, “Alright, let’s get you some water and then go home.”

He manages to get Michael off the floor without much of a struggle, wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him into the kitchen, thankful that most people are dancing or smoking weed in the back garden so the kitchen is relatively empty, save for a few people scattered around drinking from solo cups and picking at the food on the table.

He rests Michael against the countertop, intending on getting him a glass of water. But drunk Michael is clingy, Luke realises, as Michael grips onto his waist and tugs him back. His mouth goes straight for Luke’s, kissing him hard and heavy in the middle of the kitchen, not caring who walks in and sees them. Luke is stunned for a second, and it takes him that long to catch up and kiss Michael back. The paint on Michael’s lips makes them dry and taste a little funny, the alcohol on his tongue not mixing with it too well, but Luke doesn’t care, opens his mouth to get more. Michael’s hand lets go of his waist, gripping his hair instead, holding on like it’s for dear life.

Luke doesn’t pull back until Michael moans. He likes the way Michael is trying to pull him back against him, bring him closer, but his stomach is starting to tingle, and he doesn’t want to pop a boner in the kitchen of one of his classmates so he wills himself to move away from Michael, no matter how much his body is screaming for him to go back.

To busy himself, he grabs one of the empty clean cups from beside the fridge and fills it with cold water from the tap. “Here,” he says as he hands it over to Michael. “Drink it; it’ll make you feel a little better.” Michael drinks it, not as fast as he drank the beer, but Luke isn’t pushing, just rests back against the counter and refills the cup a few more times as Michael grasps his hand, thumb rubbing smooth semi-circles on the back of his hand. It makes Luke’s heart flip, how Michael can’t let go of him, even for a second. His paint is smeared all around his mouth, almost completely wiped off in some patches, and Luke knows that it’s most likely all over his own chin and cheeks, but he doesn’t care. He somewhat likes the idea of people knowing what he and Michael were doing, even if it was just kissing.

After Michael’s third cup of water, he drops the plastic cup somewhere and rests his head on Luke’s shoulder. “Luke,” he groans. “I don’t feel too good, I wanna go home.”

They’re out the door ten minutes before Michael is hunched over a bush, puking up most of the alcohol he drank. Luke can do nothing but stand beside him, rubbing circles onto his back as Michael heaves up his drink. “It’s okay, Mikey. Get it all up.” Michael whimpers, before his vomiting again, and Luke cringes, keeps rubbing his back and stroking his hair. He’s not sure exactly how late it is, but he’s thankful that there’s no one else walking on the footpath. Michael is still hunched over, arms wrapped tight around his stomach and head still stuck in the bush. “How you doing?” Luke asks, when he hears Michael vomit, scratches at the short hairs at the base of Michael’s neck.

He doesn’t expect an answer, so takes Michael’s groan as an “I’ doing great, asshole.” He feels bad for letting Michael drink as much as he did, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, and Luke didn’t really want to be the mom friend. He’s glad he didn’t have more to drink himself – partly because he wants to make sure Michael makes it back to his room okay, and partly because he doesn’t fancy puking his guts up into someone’s rose bush at God knows what time in the morning.

Eventually Michael re-emerges, wide eyed and pale, but looking significantly more sober. His fringe is sticking to the paint on his forehead, there are wet tracks down his cheeks and his bowtie is all wonky, and Luke wonders how he can still look so beautiful. Luke grimaces, squeezes Michael’s elbow and tugging him away from the roses he just fertilised. “Do you feel any better?”

“I actually do,” Michael says, his voice a little raw but definitely more steady than it was. “I’ve decided I don’t like alcohol that much.”

Luke puts his arm around Michael’s waist and heads in the direction of the circus. It’s only a fifteen minute walk, and the air is crisp and clear, so he thinks the walk will be nice. The leaves have mostly fallen from the trees, the once grey footpath now a mix of reds and browns and oranges. “You could have fooled me.” Michael shoves him a little and mutters something Luke doesn’t quite catch, but it loses whatever venom it had when Michael stumbles and has to grab onto Luke to steady himself.

*~*

Luke strips out of his costume, pulling on a pair of Michael’s sweats as he watches the other boy scrub off the paint that managed to survive with some chemically smelling wipe. The time on his phone reads four a.m., but the stars outside are shining bright enough to light up the night, the pale glow from the moon making everything soft and serene, and Luke decides he doesn’t want to waste it. So when Michael is out of his uncomfortable clothes, Luke pulls him back outside, and leads him to one of the patches of grass.

He lets Michael’s hand go when he drops to the floor, the dew from the grass clinging to the fabric of his pants before he lays back, hands crossed behind his head. “What are you doing?” Michael asks, but sits down anyway.

Luke shrugs as best as he can in his current position. “Star gazing.”

“Star gazing,” Michael repeats. He sounds a little unsure, probably still a little drunk, but stretches out beside Luke anyway, body heat welcome against the bitter sting of the October night. “You’re crazy, Hemmings.”

“Not as crazy as you,” Luke retorts, nudging Michael’s leg with his foot. “What was that about, anyway? I thought you were going to poison yourself.”

Michael closes his eyes, and Luke watches his breath come from between parted red lips, rising as steam before disappearing all together in the darkness. It’s oddly therapeutic, and he finds himself unable to look away. “It was nothing. I just wanted to have a good time, is all.”

Luke remembers the look on Michael’s face before the left for the party. From experience, Luke knows that someone only drinks that much when they’re trying to avoid college work, or when they’re trying to forget. “Michael,” Luke begins carefully, but Michael cuts him off with a shake of his head.

“Don’t. Not now. It’s a nice night, and I just want to enjoy being here with you.” He’s still watching the breath rising from Michael’s mouth, the whiteness curling and making beautiful swirly patterns on each exhale.

His stomach feels like lead, because he was right. Something happened. “Mikey, please talk to me.” He rolls over on his side, leans on one elbow as his other hand rests on Michael’s chest, bunching the old Metallica shirt. Michael squeezes his already shut eyes, and Luke thinks this is as far as he’s going to get. He wants to know what’s bothering Michael, but he doesn’t want to push him, either. So he’s a little surprised when Michael speaks and it’s not to tell Luke to mind his own business.

“I was talking to mom and dad before you came over, and I guess I’m just spending too much time in my own head. It’s not exactly a five star hotel in there, and it just got to me a little. Don’t worry about it, honestly.” But Luke is nervous, and he subconsciously tightens his grip on Michael’s t-shirt.

“What were you thinking about?”

Michael opens his eyes and lolls his head to the side so he’s looking right at Luke. His eyes are wide and honest, more so than Luke has ever seen them, and he knows that this is going to be heavy. He moves closer to Michael on the grass, rubs his chest through his shirt to let him know it’s okay, that no matter what, he’ll be there for him. He tries to say all this with his eyes because he doesn’t want to speak and ruin the mood. Michael seems to get it, because he shuts his eyes for a few seconds, and when he opens them again, they’re brimming with unshed tears.

“I’m scared.” It’s only two words, but they seem to splice Luke’s heart into a million different pieces. He doesn’t really know how answer so he doesn’t, just keeps his eyes locked on Michael’s and tries to regulate his breathing. “It’s just.. I’m going nowhere. There’s all these great people doing great things every day, and they make the world a little better. And I’m just, I’m _not_ great. I can’t do anything to make the world better. I’m so insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. Like, would it even matter if I just disappeared; would anyone even notice? Would anyone even care?”

“Mikey,” Luke croaks, and his throat is a lot tighter than it was a few seconds ago.

“Don’t,” Michael says, turning his head away from Luke and looking back up at the night sky. To Luke, the black infused with silver glitter doesn’t seem so beautiful anymore.

Luke leans over and grabs Michael’s chin, moving his head so their gazes lock. “You matter to me. So, so much. I’d notice, and I’d care a whole lot.”

“Please, don’t.”

“Kiss me,” Luke breathes out, and before Michael can even think about refusing, Luke is covering his mouth, swallowing the whimper Michael lets out and kissing him hard, almost like he’s trying to force all the pain out of his body with just his lips.

They lay there, just kissing and being with until Luke can feel Michael start to shiver beneath him, and reluctantly he takes his mouth from Michael’s. He instantly wants Michael back against him, missing the feel of him in his arms, the steady beat of his heart against his palm. Michael stands first, offering a hand to help Luke up and dragging him back to his room. Luke can see the wetness in Michael’s eyes glistening in the starlight, but he doesn’t comment on it, just allows himself to be pulled along.

Once the door is shut, Michael is in his arms again, mouth back on his as his hands squeeze Luke’s waist. He’s kissing Luke frantically, like he can’t get enough, and Luke’s having a hard time keeping up. Michael’s walking back towards the bed, his mouth not leaving Luke’s for a second. The only sounds in the otherwise silent room are the wet noises their mouths make, and the little whimpers that come from Michael every now and then. They hurt more than Luke can comprehend.

The atmosphere is thick, laden with more emotion than Luke has ever felt in his whole entire life. It’s making his nerves tingle, and overwhelming them so much that they’re numb at the same time. He wants to touch every part of Michael, kiss him, hold him.

“Luke,” Michael starts, and his voice cracks a little bit. “Luke, I need you.”

Luke nods, moving his hands to undo the tie of Michael’s sweatpants. He hadn’t even noticed himself getting hard, too focussed on Michael, but now it’s all he can think about as Michael breathes hot and heavy in his ear. “You gonna fuck me?”

Michael shakes his head, and Luke is confused for a second before Michael says “I want you to fuck me. I need to feel you. I just, I need it, Luke. I need you.”

Luke stills for a moment, Michael’s words laying heavy on his heart as he looks at the other boy, eyes still wide and a little scared, but no regret in them. He meant what he said, and Luke nods, kisses his cheek, then moves down to kiss his neck, his chest through his shirt. “Are you sure you want this Mikey? I’ll give you anything you want, but you have to be sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Luke pulls Michael’s shirt off over his head, pushes until he’s laying on the bed, head nestled on the pillows. His eyes are hooded as he looks to the bottom of the bed where Luke is kneeling, pulling off his converse and his sweatpants, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. And then they’re gone too.

“I’m gonna go as gentle as I can, gonna open you up really good. But you have to tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Michael agrees, and Luke leans forward to kiss him again, almost as if to seal the promise. Michael’s breath is a little shaky, his eyes blown.

Luke’s mouth trails down Michael’s chin, down his neck and chest before he’s swirling his tongue around Michael’s nipple. Michael’s hands are gripping the sheets tight, and Luke moves his head lower, sucking a mark on to Michael’s pale tummy, biting at the soft flesh and making Michael giggle.

Michael’s cock is flushed, leaking a little at the tip as it lays against his stomach. “You’re so beautiful, Michael. There’s not one inch of you that’s not beautiful. You need to believe that.” Luke doesn’t look up, because he knows the look that’s going to be on Michael’s face and he’s not too sure he could deal with that right now. So he decides to show him how beautiful he is instead, taking the head of Michael’s cock into his mouth and sucking softly. Just enough to tease, but not enough for much release. Michael is groaning above him, but it sounds far away as he starts moving his head lower, taking as much of Michael as he can, using his tongue to massage the underside.

Michael is squirming, the grip Luke has on his waist not enough to keep him still. Luke doesn’t care, just keeps bobbing his head and going lower.

Eventually he pulls off for air, eyes watering a little bit. Michael looks debauched, eyes pleading for Luke to do something. Luke lowers his head again, but passes Michael’s cock, goes lower to tongue at his balls as Michael’s moans get louder. “Jesus Christ, Luke,” he pants, his fingers tangling in Luke’s hair.

Luke drags his tongue down Michael’s balls, the tip of it trailing along Michael’s perineum. Michael practically screams, body spasming, and Luke smiles. He’s never done this to anyone before, but he’s hellbent on making sure Michael enjoys this as much as possible, and if the sounds falling from Michael’s mouth when Luke increases the pressure against that spot are anything to go by, then he’s enjoying it a _lot_. “Luke, _Luke_!”

Luke moves lower again, and this time he runs his tongue flat over Michael’s hole. He circles it with his tongue, making it wet and slippery before he puts his tongue inside. The grip Michael has in his hair tightens, and he goes in further. It’s not as weird as he thought it would be, doesn’t taste at all like what he imagined. He’s surprised how pleasant he finds it, but then wonders if that’s just because it’s Michael.

He uses his tongue to open Michael as much as possible, Michael’s thighs squeezing around his head in a way that’s oddly comforting. He slides his hand up the bed until he finds Michael’s, still gripping the sheets, and laces their fingers together. He thinks he hears Michael whimper, but the sound is muffled, blocked by Michael’s thighs. Michael’s breathing is heavy and laboured, and Luke needs to be in him before he comes, so he regretfully pulls his mouth away. Michael whines, his hole clenching around nothing, but Luke strokes his side. “I’ll be back in a second, baby. Just getting some lube and a condom, and get these clothes off.”

It’s easier to get fingers into Michael after he’s been opened by Luke’s tongue, and Luke finds himself slipping two in with ease. “How is it?” he asks, scissoring his fingers to make room for the third.

“Good, really fucking good. Can’t wait for your cock,” Michael says, pushing himself back on Luke’s fingers, trying to get more pressure against his prostate. After Luke slips in a third finger, making sure Michael is prepped enough, he slips on a condom and kneels, just looking at Michael stretched out on the bed, chest flushed pink and legs spread wide, waiting for Luke to fit back between them. “How do you wanna do this?”

“Just like this. Need to be kissing you.” Luke nods, scoots forward so he can lean over Michael and press their lips together. Given their position, it’s sweet and loving, everything Luke wants to say but is too afraid to. “Please, Luke, please fuck me.”

Luke presses himself against Michael’s entrance, tries to push through the initial resistance without hurting his boy too much. He kisses him through the burn, hands coming up to rest beside Michael’s head, fingers combing through his hair. He continues to push in with slow, shallow thrusts, watching Michael’s face for any signs that it’s too painful. Michael just looks blissed out, eyes hooded and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “How does it feel?” Luke asks, pushing in the last bit until he’s bottomed out, his pelvis resting against Michael’s ass.

Michael just whines, kisses Luke again. It takes a lot of willpower for Luke not to move, especially since Michael is so warm and tight around him, but he manages to stay completely still, just kissing Michael until the boy underneath him is subtly moving his hips. Luke pulls out a small but before pushing back in, Michael breathing out a quiet ‘fuck’ when Luke repeats his movements.

“Mikey,” Luke pants. “I don’t know what got you thinking the way you do, but you’re so important, and so beautiful.” He’s not sure where the compulsion to say that came from, but he needed to say it, needed Michael to _hear_ it. Needs Michael to understand, see himself the way Luke does. “You’re such a good person, Mikey, and you may not change the world, but you made my world so much better. I’m so glad I met you.” A sound like a sob rips from Michael’s chest, and Luke keeps moving, cups Michael’s neck with his hand. “I mean it, Michael. I lo-“

“Don’t,” Michael interrupts, harsh and fast. “Don’t say that to me, Don’t you dare say it.”

Luke’s movements falter only for a second, his heart dropping. He wants to see Michael’s face, but his head is turned to the side. “Michael, baby-“

“Please, don’t, Luke.” It stings a little bit, but Michael looks so broken in that moment that Luke will do anything to stitch him back together, and if keeping that sentence in his own head is the way to do it, then he will.

He picks up his pace again, kissing Michael’s cheek and flinching when he finds it wet and salty with tears. “Michael, do you want me to stop?”

Michael shakes his head, and Luke physically flinches when he sees more tears fall from Michael’s shut eyes. “No, no, I’m fine, please keep going, I’m so close, Luke please.”

Luke takes Michael’s cock in one of his hands and pumps it in time with his thrusts until Michael isn’t sure whether to fuck back on Luke’s cock, or up into his fist. “Luke, Luke, I’m gonna come.”

“It’s okay, baby, I got you. I’m right there with you.” Michael comes, hips twitching as he tightens around Luke. The warmth of Michael being impossibly tighter around him is what brings him over the edge, biting the meat of Michael’s shoulder to muffle the sounds he makes.

He lays motionless on top of Michael until he hears sniffling. His stomach knots when he realises it’s Michael, and slowly pulls out. He ties the condom, tosses it in the bin before cleaning Michael’s stomach with the sweatpants, and buries the two of them underneath the comforter.

With Michael tight against him, he can feel each tear as they fall against his skin, the warm turning cold and making his skin prickle. His stomach is sick with the thought that he might have been too rough, may have hurt Michael in any way. He wants to ask, but his throat is dry and he’s afraid to know the answer; he doesn’t know what he’ll do if it’s a ‘yes’. His mind flashes back to when he almost told Michael he loved him, and when Michael told him not to say it. He feels like he’s going to throw up. “Mikey,” he whispers, finally finding the courage. He buries his face in the mess of black hair and takes in a deep breath. “Michael, did I hurt you? Please tell me if I hurt you. I’m so sorry-“

“You didn’t hurt me,” Michael says. It’s quiet and timid and does nothing to soothe Luke’s beating heart and trembling hands. “You were perfect, I couldn’t have asked for any better.”

“What is it, then? You were crying, you _are_ crying, and I’m worried..”

“I’m leaving, Luke.”

Luke scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “Yeah, in a couple of weeks.”

Michael chuckles, but it’s hollow. “No, Luke. In a couple of days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on tumblr and cry over Broken Home with me (seriously. ouch.) -> t1mburton


	5. Everybody Loves A Circus Show, But I'm The Only Clown You'll Ever Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the last chapter! I have a teeny tiny little epilogue to post, but this is it! I can't believe I actually finished this. But thanks so much for reading and commenting and sending me things on tumblr honestly you all are the nicest lil things and I love you all.   
> Chapter title is from 'The Circus' by Take That

When Luke wakes, the sun is shining right on his face, making him squint his eyes, roll over and smush his face into the pillow. It’s only when the scent of Michael’s hair gel and aftershave invades his nostrils that he comes to enough to remember where he is. He blindly reaches across the bed to grasp Michael’s waist and pull him close and steal some of his warmth, but his arm falls onto cold sheets instead. Michael isn’t there. Luke rolls over onto his back and plucks his phone from the nightstand, unlocking it to see that it’s just coming up to ten am. The cold sheets rub against his still naked body and make him shiver so he tucks them up under his chin and lays staring at the ceiling, mind going back to the party, to Michael drinking, to the sex, to Michael.

This wakes him up properly, his mind whirring and heart thumping erratically when he remembers what Michael said to him, when he told Luke was leaving in a couple of days. It’s two weeks before he was supposed to leave initially. Luke suddenly feels sick, his throat closing up when he thinks of the way Michael was last night – how he fell asleep quietly crying on Luke’s shoulder, and how Luke himself couldn’t sleep for what felt like years after that, running his hands up and down Michael’s back and kissing his hair, just because Michael was still there and he _could_.

He can feel his eyes starting to burn, tears threatening to come, and rubs them with the palm of his hands to stop them from forming. His breath is a little shaky, and he’s about to climb out of the bed to get dressed when the door is swinging open and Michael is stepping in. Shirtless with his wet hair dripping onto the towel slung around his neck, black skinny jeans hugging his hips, Luke takes a moment to wonder how anyone this beautiful can be real.

“Oh,” Michael says when he spots Luke messing on his phone. “You’re awake. I didn’t wanna wake you this early, but I have a show..”

“It’s fine,” Luke interrupts, sitting up and stretching, groaning when his spine pops. “You didn’t wake me, anyway.” Michael nods before rubbing at his hair with the towel and dropping it on the floor. His eyes are still red and puffy, his voice a little scratchy, and Luke doesn’t know if that’s from the alcohol or the crying. “How’s your head? You drank a lot last night.” Luke adds a small laugh to make it sound light, but Michael visibly cringes.

“It hurts a little, nothing aspirin won’t get rid of.” He walks over to the bed, lifting up the sheet and climbing in beside Luke, pulling him back down and snuggling against his side. His skin is still damp and warm from the shower, still has the little pink tinge, and the smell of his shampoo is strong. It takes all Luke’s willpower to restrain from shoving his face in Michael’s still wet hair and inhaling. Michael’s arms instantly wind around Luke’s waist and he noses at his collarbone, eyes slipping shut. “You’re still naked,” he murmurs against Luke’s skin, running the pads of his fingers along Luke’s hipbone. “I like it.”

“You’re getting your pillow wet,” Luke says softly, pulling Michael closer. He leans forward slightly and presses a gentle kiss to the centre of Michael’s forehead. Michael groans something that sounds like ‘I don’t care’, and Luke chuckles, closing his own eyes too. He hardly slept after last night, and the tiredness is catching up on him.

“Maybe if we weld the door shut, they won’t be able to make me do this show and I can sleep all day.” Michael’s warm breath tickles at Luke’s chest, sends shivers down his spin. “I’m not up to doing anything today, just wanna stay in bed with you.”

“I don’t think your parents need any more reasons to hate me.” Luke meant it as a joke, but regrets it when Michael stills for a second in his arms, before shaking his head and nuzzling back against Luke’s chest.

“They don’t really need a _reason_ to hate anyone. Sometimes they’re just assholes.”

“Michael, they’re your parents, you don’t..”

“I do mean it. You’re right, they _are_ my parents, so I know what they’re like.”

Luke just nods and brushes some of the hair off Michael’s forehead. He moves his hand to cup the back of Michael’s neck, fingers fiddling with the little curls that have dried. He wants to be able to enjoy this, just laying with Michael and enjoying being in each other’s company before Michael leaves, but last night is leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Not just Michael telling him he’s leaving, but everything else – the way Michael cried himself to sleep, the things he said to Luke when they were outside, the drinking until he puked. He wants to talk about all of it, and then maybe some of the weight on his chest will disappear. But he doesn’t know how to even bring it up.

So he decides to just go for it. “Michael, you want to tell me what happened last night?”

Michael moves his face from Luke’s neck so that he can look at him. “We went to a party and then came back here and had sex.”

Luke rolls his eyes. He knew this would be difficult, but he doesn’t want it to end in a fight. “You know what I mean. You cried when we were having –“

“I know,” Michael cuts him off. “I was just drunk. Forget about it.”

“Forget about it?” Luke tries to keep his voice down, but it seems to rise on it’s own accord. “ _Forget_ about it? You tell me you’re leaving in two days before crying into my shoulder all night and then you tell me to just _forget about it_?”

“Can we not do this now?” Michael spits. “I have to go out there in a few minutes.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Luke puts his arms around Michael again, unable to _not_ be touching him. “But we’re talking about this later.”

Michael doesn’t answer, just busies himself with biting at Luke’s neck. Luke brings his hand up to run through Michael’s hair again, mixing all the colours in his fringe together for a second before they all fall back into place. When Michael seems to be satisfied with the mark he left on Luke’s neck, he pulls himself away, pecking Luke on the lips before climbing out of the bed. He pulls on a black button up and his combat boots before sitting on the edge of the bed, and the way he looks at Luke makes Luke feel like his soul is lying outside of his body. It’s intense, and makes him feel like crying.

“I have to go now, but please don’t be mad at me. Dad wants me for a while after the show, and the last one is tonight so I guess he wants one more practice in before it. But come around later. And bring pizza.”

Luke scoffs, “I’m not your goddamn slave.” Michael just smiles. He and Luke both know that Luke’s whipped.

*~*

Luke is at his parent’s house when he gets a text from Michael saying that everyone in the circus is going for some kind of meal to celebrate their last show, and that as much as he tried he couldn’t get out of it. He doesn’t know what time he’ll be back in his room at, and asks Luke if he minds waiting until tomorrow. There’ll be no shows, so Michael is free all day. Luke replies that that’s fine, but in reality, it hits him square in the chest.

Michael’s doing his last show tonight. Michael is _leaving_.

The second he gets that text his mood changes and he’s snappy and grumpy. His parents notice but don’t say anything, and Luke’s glad because he’s trying not to even think about Michael in case he bursts out crying. He had intended on staying until dinner time and then heading to pick up a pizza before going to Michael’s, but now he just wants to go home and bury himself under his duvet.

So he does. Alex says hello when he opens the front door, and he shouts something indecipherable back before slamming his bedroom door shut, plugging his earphones in and turning up ‘Disenchanted’ as high as it can go. It’s kind of masochistic to listen to this song; all it does is bring back memories of the first night he and Michael spent together, but he can’t listen to anything else.

At one point, Alex sticks his head in the door to ask Luke if he’s okay, and Luke just grabs something off the floor by his bed and throws it in the direction of the door. Alex doesn’t come back in, only texts Luke to say that there’s dinner for him if he wants it. He doesn’t text back. He doesn’t feel like eating anyway; his stomach is tense and squirming and he knows anything he eats is just going to come straight back up. He sees a few texts from Calum, saying Alex told him that Luke was upset and he’ll call around if Luke wants. Luke doesn’t reply to those, either. Instead he turns off his phone and puts it in the drawer of his nightstand.

He pulls his pillow over his head and closes his eyes, Disenchanted still playing on repeat.

*~*

He wakes with a start when something heavy drops onto his back and makes his spine curve uncomfortably. His face is hot and sweaty from where it’s still buried under the pillow, and his ears are ringing a little from the loud music that’s been blaring into them for God knows how long. He grunts, telling Alex to get out of his room, but the weight doesn’t move, instead leans down to press a soft kiss at the back of his neck.

For a second he thinks it’s Michael, and then remembers that Michael has never been to his house before. So there’s only one other person it could be. “Calum,” Luke says, and his throat is raw and scratchy, muffled under the mounds of fabric. “What do you want?”

Calum pulls the pillow from Luke’s head and rolls off his back, landing between Luke and the wall. He grabs Luke’s iPod from where it’s lying and turns the music off before wrapping the earphones around it. “Alex told me you’ve been in your room for seven hours and won’t come out.”

“No I haven’t, what time is it?”

Calum looks at him sympathetically and Luke hates it. “Nine thirty.” Luke didn’t expect it to be that time, but he tries to keep the shock from his face. “Luke, I know that it’s hard when you fight, but judging the way you two were at the party, you can work through this. I know you can. Do you really think me and Ash have never fought before?”

Luke scrunches his face up in confusion, looking at Calum like he’s grown another head from the side of his neck. “What are you talking about?”

Calum looks just as confused. “You and Michael? I thought you two had a fight and that’s why you were in such a shit mood.” Luke shakes his head. He wishes it was that simple. They could work through a fight, but this, that’s hanging over them, is worse than any fight they could ever have.

And the worst thing is, it’s all his fault. He was the one that made the first move; that kissed Michael first. Michael kept telling him that he had to go eventually, and Luke shook it off, not believing that that day could ever come. But it did, and it’s less than forty eight hours away. He was the one that went back to see Michael, he was the one that kissed him, that went and fell in love with him when Michael kept reminding him _not_ to.

Luke shakes his head again, biting down on his bottom lip and feeling his eyes fill with tears. “We’re not fighting.”

“Oh shit,” Calum says, scooting a little closer to Luke and putting an arm around him. “Is it one of your parents? Your brothers? Lucy?”

“No, no.” He turns his face into the mattress in the hope of hiding the tears that are starting to spill over. “It’s Michael. He...” Luke can’t bring himself to say it out loud, almost like if he does then it will make it more real, like if no one brings it up again then Michael will be able to stay with him.

“Luke, please tell me what happened.” Calum sounds a million miles away as Luke tries to curl into himself. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, not even Calum who’s been there through everything with him. This is a different kind of vulnerable than Luke has ever felt before, like one glance could set him off into hysterics. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what happened.”

Luke tries to steady his breathing as Calum moves even closer, rubbing underneath Luke’s eyes with the soft skin of his jumper. He wants to tell Calum how Michael is going, and it feels like he’s taking Luke’s heart with him, how the prospect of being away from Michael for more than a couple of days is making him feel physically ill, and that waiting on the day of Michael’s departure feels like waiting on death row, but he doesn’t even know where to start. Calum just holds him, shuffling to get underneath the duvet and pulling Luke onto his chest. Calum is warmer than Michael usually is, and his chest is more toned. It feels weird. Luke wonders if he’ll ever find comfort lying with anyone other than Michael.

“Michael’s leaving.” Luke says, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear himself. Calum shuffles a little bit, moving so that Luke is looking at him when he repeats himself. “The day after tomorrow, Michael is leaving.”

Calum scrunches his eyebrows, looking at Luke like he’s delusional. “Where’s he going?”

“I don’t know,” Luke replies, and he tries his hardest not to look in Calum’s eyes, staring instead at the hollow of his throat.

“Well, when’s he coming back?”

Luke still stares at Calum’s throat when he answers with a meek “I’m not sure.”

“What the Hell Luke?” Calum asks, and it sounds like he wants to laugh, but knows better. Luke can’t really blame him; those answers he gave sound a bit ridiculous. But they’re the truth, and that’s what hurts the most.

Luke takes a deep breath. “Michael, he uh, he’s with the circus? And they’re leaving in a couple of days and I don’t know what I’m going to do when he goes, Cal.” Calum doesn’t say anything, just squeezes Luke a little tighter. Into the silence, Luke whispers “I think I love him.”

And that’s what finally pushes him over the edge. Once those words leave his mouth, it’s like the walls come crumbling down and the flood gates open. A sob rips from his chest, and his tears fall fat and fast. It’s like every emotion he felt since Michael told him not to say that he loves him comes pouring out of him and he can’t help it. Calum just holds him, rocks him back and forth, running fingers through his hair and telling him it’s going to be alright. They both know that it’s not really. But Luke appreciates the sentiment anyway.

He cries until he can physically cry no more, his eyes heavy and burning, his throat faring no better. When he’s cried out and sniffling on Calum’s chest, Calum rolls over so they’re both laying on their sides, Luke tucked back underneath his arm. “I know it hurts now, and it will for a while, but it’ll be okay, Lukey. Me and Ash will be here for you, and Alex too. I know that’s not what you wanna hear right now, but there’s nothing else really that we can do. That’s his job, his life, and anyway, he’ll probably be back next year.” Luke wants to scream that he doesn’t want Michael next year, he wants him now, and he doesn’t want him to go anywhere.

“We both knew he was going, and I told myself not to fall too hard, but I couldn’t help it, Cal.” His voice is croaky, and it’s hurting a little to talk. Calum just shushes him, tangling their legs under the blankets and hugging him even tighter.

“You can’t really help who you fall for. I mean, who would have thought that the art nerd and the jock would end up together?”

Luke laughs. “Yeah, after how long of dancing around each other and annoying my ass with all your pining?”

“Shut up,” Calum says, bumping Luke’s knee. “Point is, you fall in love with who you fall in love with. You can’t just _tell_ yourself not to fall in love with someone, it doesn’t work like that.”

“I tried to tell him last night, after the party.” He feels his face heat up at the confession, when he remembers Michael asking him not to say it.

“Oh, yeah?”

“He told me not to say it. And then he cried.”

“Shit, Luke,” Calum breathes out, “What did you get yourself into?”

*~*

Luke wanted to talk things through, he really did. But the idea of kissing Michael was far more appealing. And the words got lost in his head the second Michael pulled him onto the bed and plastered himself against Luke’s side, mouths connected before they even had the chance to get comfortable. “I’m gonna miss this,” Michael says when Luke moves his mouth from Michael’s to kiss down his throat. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Luke’s mind is working in overdrive, trying so hard to remember every little detail – the way Michael’s fingers feel in his hair, the taste of his lips, the scratch of his stubble, the colour of his skin, of his eyes. It feels like the world is falling from underneath his feet, and he needs to have everything about Michael concrete in his mind before he falls with it. “Feels like only yesterday we kissed for the first time,” Luke says, moving back up to press his lips against Michael’s again. “I remember it like it was yesterday.”

Michael nods. “Me too. God, I had such a massive crush on you, you have no idea.”

“ _Had_?” Luke asks, raising his eyebrows and sounding offended,

Michael rolls his eyes, mutters ‘dork’ under his breath and laughing when Luke pokes him in the stomach. “Fine! I still have a crush on you. Better?”

“I had a crush on you, too. Did since the first time I saw you. You were so beautiful, Michael, I couldn’t look away. Missed half the show cause I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you.”

“Oh my God, stop,” Michael says, his face turning an impressive shade of pink and Luke giggles, kisses his cheek and smiling when Michael gets all flustered.

“It’s true. Couldn’t believe it when I came back here with Cal and Ash, and you were the one sitting in that booth.”

Michael starts biting his lip, looking straight into Luke’s eyes. Michael’s eyes are so beautiful, Luke thinks, that every other shade of green pales in comparison. He keeps looking, misses Michael calling his name, asking if he’s okay. He’s not sure where his sudden burst of bravery comes from, but he startles Michael and himself when he blurts out “Stay with me.”

Michael keeps looking at him and blinks slowly, breaking their eye contact for a second. He chuckles dryly.  “You don’t mean that.”

And the scary thing is, Luke does. He means it more than he’s ever meant anything in his whole life. He needs Michael to agree, to stay here with him. He knows he’s being irrational but he doesn’t care. “I do. Stay with me, Mikey. You don’t have to go.”

“You’re delusional,” Michael scoffs.

“I’m not. I have my own place, you could move in with me. Alex wouldn’t mind.”

“Yes, and where would I get a job? I have no money, no qualifications. No one will want to hire me.”

“You’ll find one somewhere.” Michael shakes his head, and Luke pulls himself into a sitting position, looking down at Michael who has a small frown on his lips.

“And until then?”

“Michael, please just think about it, You won’t have to pay rent, not until you find your feet anyway and I can –“

“Luke, I _can’t_. Everything I know is here. My family is with this circus. I can’t leave my family.”

“What about me?” Luke asks, voice small and eyes not leaving Michael’s. Michael looks like he’s about to shatter, and Luke wants to be the one that’s there to put him back together if he does. He can’t do that if he leaves. “What about me, Michael? Can you leave me?” 

Michael sits up, too. He’d probably look less hurt if Luke had reached out and physically hit him. He feels a little bad, but he needs Michael to understand that he’ll do anything to help Michael out if he chooses to stay. “That’s not fair, and you fucking know it.”

“It’s not fair that you won’t even consider staying,” Luke says.

“It’s not fair that you’re asking me to consider it!” They’re both getting angry, and this is the complete opposite of how Luke wanted their last night together to be. But he loves Michael, and goddammit, he’s going to fight for it. He’s not sure when he stood up, but Michael’s kneeling on the bed now, still a little shorter than Luke but looking no less intimidating.

Luke runs his hands through his hair, his eyes looking past Michael and around the room. His eyes scan over Michael’s desk, and it’s then that he sees it. The deck of tarot cards that’s one card short. The card that’s tucked into Luke’s wallet. He’s not sure how he knows they’re the same deck, but he just _knows_. It’s the first time he’s seen them since Michael gave him the reading, and it makes something in his chest flare up. Michael must have been looking at them, and Luke wonders if he was thinking the same thing Luke thinks about when he holds the card that Michael is missing.

“It’s you,” he says, almost accusatory. It hits him so hard, the realisation, that it almost knocks him out. “It’s you,” he says again louder, and Michael looks at him in confusion. “The card, Michael. ‘The Lovers’! It’s you, you’re the one I’m supposed to be with! Don’t you see that? Michael, I lo-“

“No, Luke,” Michael says. But Luke isn’t backing down this time. Michael can’t tell him not to say it. Michael can’t tell him not to love him.

“I love you, Michael. So fucking much that it hurts me. But I love you, and the thought of letting you walk away is killing me, and I can’t just let you go!” It feels oddly relieving to finally say it. But at the same time a little scary because he laid his heart bare to let Michael do with it as he pleases.

“We both knew I had to leave. We both knew not to get attached.” Michael voice is quiet, his hands balling into fists by his sides. Luke wasn’t expecting an ‘I love you’ back, but he was expecting something other than that something that let Luke know that Michael cares. It feels like every organ in his body just gave up and fell to the floor, his lungs squeezing shut and refusing to let any more oxygen in, his heart stopping and turning to lead. Hot iron that’s burning in his chest

“So you don’t love me?” Luke asks in a breathless whisper. The words burn like acid on his tongue.

Michael looks down at where his knees are pressing into the mattress. “Don’t and can’t are two different things.”

Luke bites his lip and looks up at the ceiling, tries to keep the tears behind his eyes instead of having them fall down his cheeks. He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, flipping it open. His fingers automatically go to one of the credit card slots and he pulls out the tarot card. Michael’s note is still there in the shiny silver pen. It used to make Luke happy to read it, make butterflies go crazy in his stomach, and he used to pull the card out just to look at it. Now it feels like a tonne weight in his palm as the two intertwined skeletons look up at him, almost tauntingly. They make him feel sick. Luke holds the card up so Michael can see it, flips it so that he can see the note. Michael visibly flinches, and Luke can see his eyes glass over with unshed tears.

“Michael,” he starts, slow and deliberate. “Do you love me?”

Michael bites his lip and looks down at the floor, eyes squinted shut.

“Well, that answers that, then,” Luke says, surprised at how strong his voice sounds when he literally feels like he’s been stabbed in the chest.

He drops the card to the floor and turns towards the door. He stalls for a second, gives Michael a chance to call him back, to do _anything_ , but he doesn’t, so Luke just opens the door and walks out.

He doesn’t look back.

*~*

When he wakes the following morning to a text from Michael that says ‘i’m sorry’, he runs to the field where the circus was.

By the time he gets there, it’s all gone, just one purple balloon caught in the branches of a tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yup.   
> Talk to me on tumblr and we can be best friends!! (t1mburton)


	6. And If Life Is Your Stage, I'll Be Watching You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so here is the epilogue.  
> I just wanna say thanks so so so sO SO much for all the amazing comments and messages on tumblr! You guys are all so sweet and amazing and it honestly means so much. I'm kinda sad that this is finally finished cause it feels like I've been working on it forever but at the same time, it feels good. Just... thank you all so much again  
> Title is from Hold Up A Light by Take That!!

_‘come by after college, worried about you.’_

That’s all the text from his mother had said, and Luke rolled his eyes before pocketing his cell phone and going back to ignoring old Bart ramble on about Jane Eyre. Again. The vibration of his phone made his heart stop for a moment, jittery and excited in case the text was from Michael. But it wasn’t. He hasn’t heard from Michael since he left just under a week ago.

Calum kept glancing at him during the lecture, and as much as Luke appreciated how much Calum cared about him, the constant surveillance was grating Luke’s nerves. He wasn’t going to just burst into tears. Well, at least he didn’t hope so.

It was Alex and Calum that finally managed to get him out of bed and into class earlier that morning, dumping a glass of cold water over his head before they physically dragged him out of bed. He groaned and protested the whole time he was drinking coffee and dressing in old jeans and hoodie, just to let them know how unhappy he was, but they didn’t care, claiming that getting out of his bedroom would make him feel better.

Bart’s lecture ran late, as it always did, and by the time Luke made it out of the college, he could see the bus pulling off from the bus stop. “Mother of _fuck_ ,” he muttered under his breath, pulling his heavy winter coat closer around him. It had been snowing pretty heavily for the last couple of days, and the ground was covered in a thick white layer. He wasn’t looking forward to trudging home. He was just glad he wore boots as opposed to his converse.

“I’ll drive you home,” Calum said, throwing an arm around Luke’s shoulders. “You’ll freeze.”

Luke shook his head. “No, it’s fine, Cal. Mom wants me to call around anyway, so I can walk.”

Calum squeezed him tighter as they walked towards the exit. “Are you sure?”

Luke just nodded, his breath fogging up before him and the sunlight bouncing off the crisp white snow making his eyes water a little bit. “It’ll be nice to be outside for a little while.”

“Okay. Text me when you get to your mom’s so I know you didn’t slip or something.” Luke wanted to make some retort about how he’s not a child and will be able to make it to his own house, but he humoured Calum anyway, promised that he would. Calum gave his arm one final squeeze before he walked off, giving Luke one final wave over his shoulder.

And now Luke is trudging through the snow, the gentle crunch under his feet somewhat relaxing. He shoves his hands in his pockets regretting not wearing gloves as the cold air pinches at the skin that’s not covered, turning it red and raw.

He’s not even paying much attention to where he’s going, feet carrying him the familiar route to his childhood. Up ahead he can see the trees that circle the field where the circus once stood, and once again he can feel his stomach tighten up and heart beat quickening. He hasn’t walked past it since Michael left, and he considers taking the longer way around just so he doesn’t have to walk past the entrance, but clenches his fists in his pockets and keeps walking. He decides he has to deal with it sometime. And it’s too cold to add another fifteen minutes or more to his walk.

When he nears the crumbling wall that lines the perimeter of the now white field, he can see someone sitting against it, focussed on something they’re holding in their hands. Luke has to stop for a second and stares, rubs his eyes but the figure is still there. They haven’t looked up yet and are turned a little away from Luke, and Luke feels like he’s about to pass out. Until h lets his eyes wander up and they land on a head of shocking red hair. Not the black he was hoping for. His hopes fall so fast he actually slumps along with them, shoulders feeling way too heavy.

He blink back the tears in his eyes, feeling a little ridiculous and starts walking again. He feels jittery when he walks past the wall, not even looking at whoever’s sitting there, just thinking that they must be absolutely freezing, as he gets closer to the turn off for his house.

It’s eerily silent, the only sound his footsteps breaking the fresh snow and his laboured breath. Luke tries not to think of the traffic that clogged this road just over a week ago, the excited squeals and laughter of the children waiting in line. He’s lost in his own thoughts, remembering Margaret who would wave him through, and the smile on Michael’s face those nights he’d wait for him on the wall, thumbs busily pressing on some console or other. He barely even registers when he hears someone speak.

“Hey stranger.”

Luke stops, one foot still hovering mid air as he holds his breath. He knows that voice. Of course he does, it’s been running through his mind since the first time he heard it, it’s been plaguing his dreams since he thought he would never hear it again. Behind him he can hear footsteps coming closer, and he squints his eyes shut, tries to steady his breathing. He doesn’t believe it – cant bring himself to believe it.

“Luke? You’re not going to punch me are you?” Luke can hear the panic in the other boy’s voice, and bites on his lip to try and keep in the sob that’s threatening to rip from his chest.

“Is it really you?” Luke asks, and it’s so quiet, he barely hears it himself.

“Yeah.” The voice is closer now, and Luke knows if he just _turned around_ they’d almost be face to face. But he can’t. “The second I let you walk out that door I regretted it. I couldn’t leave like that. Not after everything”

Luke manages to open his eyes, the bright sun and harsh wind making them burn for a couple of seconds. It takes him even longer to will himself to turn around.

His breath hitches in his throat when he finally turns and Michael is standing right there, bright green eyes locking with Luke’s after what feels like years apart. He’s dyed his hair, Luke notices, and reaches out a hand to touch the bright red fringe. Michael chuckles, and Luke feels as if some of the broken pieces of his heart are stitching back together.

“I went to your mom’s. Said you were at college, but you walk by this way on your way home. It was her idea to to uh, to text you. I said I’d do it but she wanted it to be a suprise. So, uhm, surprise?” Michael pauses as Luke just stares at him, mouth hanging open a little bit. He’s afraid to blink in case Michael disappears again, afraid to even move a finger. Michael takes in a deep breath, looks right at Luke before he speaks again. “I love you, Luke. It’s you for me, too. Of course it’s you, how could it ever be anyone else? I was scared. I _am_ scared. I have about five hundred dollars and a suitcase full of clothes, no job and no place to live, no job, but...”

Luke grabs the front of Michael’s jacket before pulling him close, crashing their mouths together. Michael’s lips are cold and chapped, but perfect at the same time. Luke’s not sure how long they stand there kissing with Michael gripping onto Luke’s coat like his life depends on it, but it’s definitely too soon when Michael pulls away. Luke didn’t even know he was crying until Michael raises a hand to wipe Luke’s cheek.

“Luke..”

“They’re happy tears,” Luke interjects, pressing another kiss to Michael’s lips.

Michael smiles, and fidgets about in his pocket for a second before holding something up in front of Luke’s face. “Thought you might want this back?” he says unsurely. Luke holds his own hands out, fresh tears spilling out of his eyes when he sees the tarot card in the palm of his hand. This time the intertwined skeletons don’t seem to be mocking him, they seem to be a promise.

He pulls Michael closer again, arms winding around his waist as he kisses his nose, his cheek and finally his mouth. Michael throws his arms around Luke’s neck, standing on his tip-toes to kiss back as ferociously just as the snow starts falling again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end!! thanks again!!  
> and come holla at me on tumblr to cry over pretty band people!! -> t1mburton

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully that wasn't too atrocious and you don't hate me  
> and as always, you should come talk to me on tumblr because we'd be awesome friends, I promise -> t1mburton


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